Stacey joined us on the Round Bus just after the murder of Kasandra Perkins by her boyfriend, Kansas City Chiefs linebacker Jovan Belcher. Stacey’s final word, simple and poignant, brought the whole Barn crew to tears and the edition was one of our most popular to date.
Despite this generosity, I know she toys with me daily, her laughter piercing and the inaccessibility of her body unforgiving. She will disappear for days and never tell me where she has gone, and I am forced to make love to her with such severity in the hope that my name will be burned inside her so the others will read the ownership like Braille. I find marks on her body, bruises and bites, and I play back the moments we have spent together and I know that another man has planted them there. I count them like inventory and when there are too many I will count them again to be sure, trace them with my fingertips and yet say nothing, constantly afraid that a single word will cause her to walk out the door a final time.
I’ve always said that baseball is about gentleman failing, and in 2012, for me personally, that poetry really played out. I know its strange to say that my favourite sports moment was watching my favourite baseball players fall apart, but in some ways seeing that human fallibility really reaffirms your devotion to the game, teaches you about why you really love it.
Adam Lind got sent to the minors and then was put on waivers. Justin Verlander incomprehensibly struggled in game one of the World Series and arguably set the tone for the (devastating, for me) series loss. Both players had periods of glory and consistency that had buoyed me, and now I was forced to have faith in them when they were falling apart. When other people were booing and cursing them.
Baseball, for me, is about faith above all things, and having faith in something tested is the only way you truly know you love something. In fact, a bad year of baseball is the really best year to learn how much you love it.
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