I went to my second Astros game this season last night. I’ve watched baseball my whole life. My dad is an avid sports fan (and I mean all sports) and my very first job was working the concession stand at my brother’s little league game. I know baseball.
For some reason, the concept of the relief pitcher struck me last night. I love “A League of Their Own” and the “There’s no crying in baseball” concept. As a woman, I’m pretty sure, I couldn’t be a pitcher. They would pull me off the field in the 7th inning (or sooner if the other team was scoring off of me) and I would sit in the dugout wondering what I did wrong, analyzing every aspect of what I did, kicking myself for all of my mistakes. . . . a man just sits in the dugout. Because it’s time. It’s time to leave the game.
In our crazy, rat raced society, we push ourselves to our limits and we push everyone around us. We think we can just work harder, push more and we will get what we want. We forget that there are times when we just need to give up and leave the game. And, more importantly, we need to remember that leaving the game doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong or that you are less of a person. Sometimes it’s just time to leave.
The pitcher’s arm gets tired. He’s no longer throwing strikes. It’s just time to go. Let someone else come in and take over – someone with a fresh arm and high energy.
Letting go isn’t easy. There’s a reason we have arms – we want to hold onto things. We want to stay. Our human spirit wants to continue to try to win and overcome. But sometimes it is time. It is time to leave. It is time to go.
I had a writer tell me that leaving is a huge theme in my songs, and it certainly is. For a lot of reasons.
Today, let go. Let go of hurt. Let go of pain. Let go of a thing. Let go of a person. Let go of a dream. Let go of a goal. The pitcher can’t stay on the mound for forever. Whether the coach pulls him out or the game has ended, he has to leave. It just IS. There is no good or bad. It just IS.
Why? You cannot move on without letting go. The pitcher walks to the dugout. He rests. He cheers on his teammates. He finds himself in a different place. Not bad, not good just different.
It’s time. It’s time to leave.