Monday, January 29, 2007
Dreaming Of Bases In The Land Of Wickets
Here's a personal essay from Hari Simran Singh from Grade 12:
Dreaming Of Bases In The Land Of Wickets
by Hari Simran Singh Khalsa
I doubt that many people have ever listened to the live radio broadcast of Game Seven of the National League Championship Series at the break of dawn on a chilly Punjabi morning. When I found myself in this peculiar, and probably unprecedented, situation, I felt blessed, just as Sir Edmund Hillary must have felt when his blue eyes took in the view from the top of the world. Granted, I did not have to face the difficulties that he faced prior to attaining this feeling, but I am certain that it was that same part of the brain, that same voice that declares, “I am unique!”, that spoke up in my mind as I listened to Gary Cohen’s play-by-play through laptop speakers in the staff office of Miri Piri Academy.
I am a baseball fan by nature (the spirit of Ebbets Field lives on in us Brooklynites) and a Mets fan by nurture (even though I pray for a subway series every year). During my summer break I follow the sport through the Times at breakfast, on the radio in my dad’s car, and on the TV when the games aren’t on cable. I also go to both stadiums at least once before September rolls around and I have to return to boarding school in India . Back at Miri Piri Academy , I check the scores and news daily in the same computer lab in which I am typing this, and I stay connected to the New York passion for the game through my phone conversations with my dad.
Sadly, none of the activities of this school involve Louiseville Sluggers or four-seem fastballs. I distract myself with basketball and an occasional soccer game, plus a good deal of yoga and meditation, which are emphasized in our education.
To teach us how to live a yogic lifestyle is one of the chief goals of Miri Piri Academy . This involves yoga classes almost everyday, teacher training during school, and an early morning start to the day. A couple times each year we do forty day programs during which we get up at three or four to practice a specific meditation. The first of these 40 day Sadhanas usually coincides with the end of the season and the playoffs.
The Mets had the best team in baseball this past season. They conquered the NL East and seemed certain to continue their victorious run through the post season. In the Division Series they toppled the Dodgers without too much difficulty and advanced to the National League Championship Series, where they faced off with one of they’re more worthy rivals, the St. Louis Cardinals.
Most playoffs games happen at night, starting at around 7 PM , Eastern Standard Time. This equates to about six in the morning on my side of the world, which is right when we’re nearing the end of our early morning meditation. Each day that I knew the Mets were playing a game I was consumed with speculation from the time I woke up ( 4:30 ) to the time when I could manage to get in the computer lab during school (usually around ten).
It was a very close series. The pitching and the hitting were outstanding on both sides. After six games, they had won three apiece which forced a seventh, deciding, game. Due to injuries and lack of rest on their pitching staffs, the Mets and the Cards both had to start reserve pitchers.
Throughout the chanting and yogic exercise on the morning of this vastly important game my focus alternated between God and the state of the Mets’ lineup and bullpen. I remembered that Sat Avtar, a friend and fellow Brooklynite, had invited me to listen to the game on the radio through a service she had signed up for on the Internet.
As soon as our Sadhana was over we rushed over to the staff office, where her laptop was. It was the fifth inning and the Mets were winning 2-0. Both starting pitchers were doing extraordinarily well. My attention was locked on the game, but I was feeling somewhat dislocated, even dimensionally removed, because of the oddity of the situation. In between innings there were commercials that offered $50 gift certificates to Tony’s Italian Steak House on Broadway. Dollars don’t mean much to me, the lifestyle that the school follows forbids steak, and I’m twelve thousand miles away from Broadway, as well as a nice little plane ride away from any Italians named Tony. Nonetheless, I felt the same excitement as the fans I could hear roaring in the stadium that would love to get fifty bucks to spend at Tony’s. My heart jumped just as high when Albert Pujols’ smash was snatched by Endy Chavez as it was about to sail over the wall, and the same chant of “Rally, rally!” was going though my head after the Mets’ lead slipped away in the top of the eighth. When they could not come up with the tying run with the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth, I hung my head in unison with the ballpark crowd of fifty thousand.
As I shuffled out of the staff office that morning, it became my own stadium, filled with the quiet of dashed hopes. My team had lost but my situation was the same. I was still one of the best Mets fans in this wonderful land of yoga and wickets.
Here's a personal essay from Hari Simran Singh from Grade 12:
Dreaming Of Bases In The Land Of Wickets
by Hari Simran Singh Khalsa
I doubt that many people have ever listened to the live radio broadcast of Game Seven of the National League Championship Series at the break of dawn on a chilly Punjabi morning. When I found myself in this peculiar, and probably unprecedented, situation, I felt blessed, just as Sir Edmund Hillary must have felt when his blue eyes took in the view from the top of the world. Granted, I did not have to face the difficulties that he faced prior to attaining this feeling, but I am certain that it was that same part of the brain, that same voice that declares, “I am unique!”, that spoke up in my mind as I listened to Gary Cohen’s play-by-play through laptop speakers in the staff office of Miri Piri Academy.
I am a baseball fan by nature (the spirit of Ebbets Field lives on in us Brooklynites) and a Mets fan by nurture (even though I pray for a subway series every year). During my summer break I follow the sport through the Times at breakfast, on the radio in my dad’s car, and on the TV when the games aren’t on cable. I also go to both stadiums at least once before September rolls around and I have to return to boarding school in India . Back at Miri Piri Academy , I check the scores and news daily in the same computer lab in which I am typing this, and I stay connected to the New York passion for the game through my phone conversations with my dad.
Sadly, none of the activities of this school involve Louiseville Sluggers or four-seem fastballs. I distract myself with basketball and an occasional soccer game, plus a good deal of yoga and meditation, which are emphasized in our education.
To teach us how to live a yogic lifestyle is one of the chief goals of Miri Piri Academy . This involves yoga classes almost everyday, teacher training during school, and an early morning start to the day. A couple times each year we do forty day programs during which we get up at three or four to practice a specific meditation. The first of these 40 day Sadhanas usually coincides with the end of the season and the playoffs.
The Mets had the best team in baseball this past season. They conquered the NL East and seemed certain to continue their victorious run through the post season. In the Division Series they toppled the Dodgers without too much difficulty and advanced to the National League Championship Series, where they faced off with one of they’re more worthy rivals, the St. Louis Cardinals.
Most playoffs games happen at night, starting at around 7 PM , Eastern Standard Time. This equates to about six in the morning on my side of the world, which is right when we’re nearing the end of our early morning meditation. Each day that I knew the Mets were playing a game I was consumed with speculation from the time I woke up ( 4:30 ) to the time when I could manage to get in the computer lab during school (usually around ten).
It was a very close series. The pitching and the hitting were outstanding on both sides. After six games, they had won three apiece which forced a seventh, deciding, game. Due to injuries and lack of rest on their pitching staffs, the Mets and the Cards both had to start reserve pitchers.
Throughout the chanting and yogic exercise on the morning of this vastly important game my focus alternated between God and the state of the Mets’ lineup and bullpen. I remembered that Sat Avtar, a friend and fellow Brooklynite, had invited me to listen to the game on the radio through a service she had signed up for on the Internet.
As soon as our Sadhana was over we rushed over to the staff office, where her laptop was. It was the fifth inning and the Mets were winning 2-0. Both starting pitchers were doing extraordinarily well. My attention was locked on the game, but I was feeling somewhat dislocated, even dimensionally removed, because of the oddity of the situation. In between innings there were commercials that offered $50 gift certificates to Tony’s Italian Steak House on Broadway. Dollars don’t mean much to me, the lifestyle that the school follows forbids steak, and I’m twelve thousand miles away from Broadway, as well as a nice little plane ride away from any Italians named Tony. Nonetheless, I felt the same excitement as the fans I could hear roaring in the stadium that would love to get fifty bucks to spend at Tony’s. My heart jumped just as high when Albert Pujols’ smash was snatched by Endy Chavez as it was about to sail over the wall, and the same chant of “Rally, rally!” was going though my head after the Mets’ lead slipped away in the top of the eighth. When they could not come up with the tying run with the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth, I hung my head in unison with the ballpark crowd of fifty thousand.
As I shuffled out of the staff office that morning, it became my own stadium, filled with the quiet of dashed hopes. My team had lost but my situation was the same. I was still one of the best Mets fans in this wonderful land of yoga and wickets.
# posted by MPA Student Work @ 4:42 PM 
