Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Ichiro May Be a Yankee, But the Sun Still Shines in Seattle

Yesterday my husband approached me in the kitchen with a look of shock on his face. He  looked down at his phone and back up at me. After a moment he sputtered- “Do you want to hear some crazy news?”

I drew a sharp breath in- “What is it?!”

“You won’t believe it!” His head shaking side-to-side in dismay. The tension was mounting. Nails were being bitten. He took one final pause for a dramatic climax before lowering the boom- “Ichiro was traded to the Yankees.”

Deadpan expression. Hmm.

Should I fake surprise? Conjure up some bewilderment? Squirt some tears? It was sad, after all, truly it was. (Besides the Ichiroll at Safeco is delicious and I just don’t think it will taste the same if its called the Hernandez roll. )

I wondered, did this mean anything to me? And if so, does it mean anything for the average woman who loves baseball for the garlic fries? As I waited for some kind of emotional response a message began pounding out a rhythm in my heart. The response I was having didn’t have anything to do with the nature of the Ichiro trade- it had everything to do with the address.

What I realized is that David and Goliath were at it again. It was one of those moments that makes you wonder if the underdog will always be- well, under.

I don’t care where Ichiro plays. Ichiro deserves to finish his career wherever he wants. He put in a good 12 seasons ( don’t quote me die-hards), so he deserves to win a few games. So Suzuki aside, here is where I get on my Moneyball soapbox.

The New York Yankees are to baseball what a spoiled little rich girl is to her pony- excessive. I am not one of those crazy sports fans that paint themselves blue on a balmy 46 degree day, (I preserve my paint for Pinterest crafts) but I can draw a chalk line between success and superfluousness.

We live in a nation where we are always told we need to be wherever we aren’t. That we never have enough. That the grass isn’t green enough- so go look for neon knolls.

To me, The Yankees are a metaphor for America’s gluttonous nature and the danger or being a discontent woman. Its hard not to notice that some of “The Yankees” in our life, (a.k.a the Evil Empire) have great successes. And when this happens it is difficult to deal with these type of successes gracefully.

Rule of thumb, don’t look at what they have in lieu of what you don’t. Look at what they have as something you can aspire to.

To go further down the rabbit hole of  living well, let’s try to focus on being quick to forgive instead of holding a grudge. Let’s pick up the check instead of looking for a free meal. Let’s give our kids hope instead of instilling in them fear of being a failure. Don’t be afraid to cheer from the stands instead of trying to be center-stage every now and then.

Whether you are a small business owner, an employee, a stay-at-home mother, or a student looking to land your dream job- it is a mistake to get tangled up in the dollars and cents solely for the prestige. Yes, we all need to look for the best deal to further our dreams- but sometimes you have to take the smaller paycheck to find the bigger purpose.

This isn’t about Ichiro, obviously. It is about learning to be happy right where we are.

We are not major league baseball players, so we can’t understand the indubitable pull of playing for the Yankees. But what we can understand is the shiny allure of someplace or something that will make us feel like we have arrived. The truth? No matter where you live, what you do, who pays you, or what that amount is- contentment is a choice.

Maybe you’ve recently lost your spot on the roster because someone out-pitched you or threw you a nasty curve-ball. Or maybe you are looking to turn in your number for a bigger spot on the field of life. No matter where you find yourself, keep your eye on the ball. Someday your pitch will come. (I bat .400 when it comes to baseball cliches.)

Oh, and in the meantime order the Ichiroll. I have a feeling it won’t be here long.

Image courtesy  of The New York Daily News
Article courtesy of Girl Power Hour 

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