We continue to fight for the proverbial “new normal.” Vaccines are entering American arms by the millions, even as this life-altering pandemic lingers, even as the coronavirus — and all its variants — continues to infect, hospitalize, and kill. Even by pandemic measures, life feels strange right now. Are we healing? Are we, in fact, getting better, closer to that shiny presence on the horizon — it can’t be a mirage, can it? — that “new normal?”
We each measure our steps toward the return to life as we knew it 15 months ago. Perhaps you went out for dinner at your favorite restaurant for the first time since two birthdays. Or maybe a return to the cinema. (I enjoyed everything about Godzilla vs. Kong, including my wife and I being two of only six people in the theater.) A considerable step forward for me personally — and for many others in this community — will happen Tuesday night when the Memphis Redbirds take the field at AutoZone Park for the first time in 609 days. Take me back to the ballgame. Please.
Whether or not you call it the “national pastime” anymore, baseball brings a quality to American culture and life that no other sport delivers. Because it’s daily, and it’s part of our lives for several months. Did your starting pitcher get shelled Tuesday night, game over before the seventh-inning stretch? Sleep it off. Your team plays again Wednesday. Did your favorite hitter slam one over the leftfield wall to give your team the lead on Saturday? You can see him play again on Sunday.
Sadly, there are likely Memphis Redbirds fans who saw their last game at AutoZone Park on August 25th, 2019. (The Redbirds beat Omaha, 9-2.) There will be emptiness — literal and otherwise — when a limited-capacity crowd (no more than 3,000 fans) gathers at the ballpark Tuesday night for the franchise’s 23rd season opener. But we will, in fact, be there. Together. Whatever charms you find at the ballpark — sunset over the Peabody, barbecue nachos, Rockey on top of the dugout — will return after an agonizing absence of 20 months. There’s so much to be thankful for in that.
With the team’s mere presence a gift for the Memphis community, it seems almost trite to draw up a scouting report for the 2021 Redbirds. The St. Louis Cardinals have a slugger in their system, Nolan Gorman (“the other Nolan,” with Mr. Arenado now occupying third base in St. Louis). If Gorman doesn’t start the season here at the Triple-A level, look for his arrival soon. Still only 20 years old, Gorman may be learning new positions (second base?) at AutoZone Park, as Arenado is expected to block his natural spot for the next several years. But as the adage goes, if he hits, he’ll play.
A pair of starting pitchers — Matthew Liberatore and Zack Thompson — hope to be the next in line in what’s become a tradition of Memphis rubber-stamping strong arms for the big leagues. Going back a decade, consider the pitchers Memphis has sent up I-55 to help the Cardinals: Lance Lynn, Carlos Martinez, Michael Wacha, Luke Weaver, Jack Flaherty, Dakota Hudson. If AutoZone Park is a garden for baseball prospects, starting pitching is the ballpark’s prize-winning eggplant.
As for the landscape of baseball here in the minors, the Pacific Coast League is a thing of the past. The Redbirds now compete in the Southeast Division of Triple-A East. Instead of facing the likes of the Tacoma Rainiers, Memphis will battle regional foes: the Gwinnett Stripers (Triple-A affiliate of the Atlanta Braves), Nashville Sounds (Milwaukee Brewers), Durham Bulls (Tampa Bay Devil Rays; here for the opening series with baseball’s top prospect, Wander Franco), Norfolk Tides (Baltimore Orioles), Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp (Miami Marlins), and Charlotte Knights (Chicago White Sox). Teams you’ll see at AutoZone Park from other Triple-A divisions: the Louisville Bats (Cincinnati Reds), Toledo Mud Hens (Detroit Tigers), Columbus Clippers (Cleveland Indians), and Indianapolis Indians (Pittsburgh Pirates).
I hope — I truly hope — a few male fans wear dresses when the Mud Hens come to town (June 1-6). Corporal Max Klinger — you remember Toledo’s favorite son, from M*A*S*H, right? — would stand and salute. Such is life with baseball back, particularly here “in the bushes.” Savor every pitch. Cheer every home run. And stand up when a player hits a triple, for crying out loud. Baseball’s back. Let’s never again take it for granted.
