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THE PROLOGUE
Thus did I hear. At one time, the Buddha was residing in the pure land called Yankee Stadium in the city of New York in the land of America in the Western Continent. As he stood near the center of the green mandala, a great rumbling was heard. Beneath his flat feet, each marked with the image of a ball, a great mountain rose from the earth, a full fourteen finger breadths in height. Around that mountain, a smaller mandala in the shape of a diamond magically appeared, with a border of sand from the River Ganges, a cushion of the finest Benares silk at three corners. Atop the great mountain there was a slab of alabaster, pure white in color, two cubits long and eight finger breadths wide. Here the Buddha stood.
The mountain was surrounded by a great assembly of immortals, gods, and demigods of the past and the present, each gathered at his position in the ten directions of the pure land. At the first square in the east stood Gehrig, Moose, Pepitone, Mattingly, and Martinez. At the second square in the north stood Richardson, Randolph, Soriano, and Canó. At the third square in the west stood McDougald, Boyer, Nettles, and Brosius. At the place between the second square and the third square stood Rizzuto, Kubek, and Jeter. At the place called the household in the south crouched Berra, Howard, Munson, and Posada, each adorned with the tools of ignorance, each flashing signs. In the place called the right in the northeast stood Ruth, Maris, Jackson, Sweet Lou, O’Neill, Godzilla, and Judge. In the place called the center in the north stood DiMaggio, Mantle, Murcer, and Bernie. In the place called the left in the northwest stood White, Winfield, and Gardner. Standing at the foot of the mountain, surrounding the Buddha, stood Ford, Reynolds, Gomez, Terry, Stottlemyre, Gator, Catfish, Key, Pettitte, Cone, Boomer, El Duque, Moose, Sabathia, and Mo. To the Buddha’s left side in a narrow cave dug out of the earth sat Stengel, Houk, Showalter, and Torre.
Beyond the field sat row upon row of laymen and laywomen, reaching almost to the heavens. In the row nearest to the field sat the laymen named Rickey and Miller. High above in a box sat the preachers Barber, Allen, McCarver, Singleton, Kay, Sterling, and Waldman, the scribes Angell, Verducci, Madden, Olney, Kepner, and Sherman. In another box sat men called Stick and Cash. Seated alone high above was the one of gentle voice and perfect pronunciation of all names in all languages, called the Herder of Sheep.
At that time, without speaking, the Buddha performed a mudra that united the opposites. He did not need a glove; all buddhas have webbed fingers. His right hand made the gesture of the circle change. The index finger of his left hand pointed down, calling for a fastball, then two fingers pointing down for a curveball, then three fingers pointing down for a slider. And then, he emitted a ray of light from between his eyebrows that illuminated all ten directions from the three divisions of east, central, and west of the American and the National, from the highest heavens of the major leagues to the deepest hells of Low A.
All the gods in the pure land and the laypeople in the stands were perplexed by this sight. The bodhisattva called The Baby said to the bodhisattva called The Horse of Iron, “I have long dwelled in this pure land, yet never have I seen the Buddha perform such a miracle. I ask you to explain it to me, you who followed me in the line and who brought me home so many times.” The Horse of Iron replied, “It was a long ago, in another pure land called the Old Yankee Stadium where it was only 295 down the right field line. You were there that day but you do not remember, for between innings you had eaten many hot dogs. On that day, the Buddha also emitted a ray of light from between his eyebrows, illuminating all the leagues in the ten directions. Then he preached what is called The Baseball Sutra. I believe he will now preach that Baseball Sutra again.”
Then the bodhisattva known as Seven stood, put on his batting helmet, and addressed the Buddha: “Lord, in the past when you set forth The Baseball Sutra, the gods of this pure land named Yankee Stadium lived their whole lives in this abode, unless they were banished to Kansas City. At that time, as the Buddha of our pure land, you taught this precious sutra only to us. Having meditated on your teaching in the clubhouse, during batting practice, in the on-deck circle, during rainouts, and in the dugout, we your devoted disciples went from victory to victory, defeating our enemies in four, five, six, or seven games. Today, because of free agency, our enemies become our friends, our friends become our enemies. Thus, I beseech you to teach The Baseball Sutra to all the gods of all the pure lands.”
The Buddha smiled upon the Commerce Comet, saying, “Well done, well done, child of good slugging percentage, wearer of the Triple Crown. You speak the truth. In the world of baseball on this day, among the gods, there is no friend or enemy. It is only the multitudes who abide in the bleachers who bear enmity throughout their lifetimes. Therefore, I shall teach The Baseball Sutra to all the gods.”
The laymen and laywomen seated on the borders of the mandala began to boo, each in their own language, silenced only when The Baby stood to speak. Adjusting his jockstrap, he addressed the Buddha: “Lord, I do not understand. Your pure land is full, its field filled with Yankees, its seats filled with fans. Our abbots sit in the dugout. The only empty space is the dugout of our enemies, who abide there only for three days or four days, or one day to make up a rainout. Yet the gods of the other pure lands are many. There is no space to fit the gods of the Eastern Division of the American League, much less the gods of all the divisions of all the leagues.”
The Buddha replied, “Did you come for the dharma or did you come for the dugout? Bambino, you should know that the powers of the Buddha are inconceivable, able to fill the visitors’ dugout with all of the gods of the other pure lands, without changing the size of the gods and without changing the size of the dugout.” The Buddha again emitted rays of light from the space between his eyes, the color of a blue pinstripe. Yet, as if by a miracle, as those rays approached the other pure lands, they turned into the color of that pure land—blue for the pure land of the Dodgers, red for the pure land of the Cardinals, green for the pure land of the A’s, orange for the pure land of the Mets.
As they reached those pure lands, the rays of light were transformed into all manner of gifts for the gods: gloves, bats, cleats, batting helmets, batting gloves, elbow protectors, catcher’s masks, car dealerships, deodorant commercials, and postgame radio shows. Delighted, the gods of the other pure lands boarded their team planes and flew to the city of New York, landing there in the time it takes for a man to bend his arm. After an hour spent in traffic, they arrived at the pure land called Yankee Stadium.
First to enter the stadium were the gods from Boston, led by The Kid, a god who does not tip his cap. He was followed by gods named Yaz, Tiant, Evans, Lynn, Big Papi, and Pedro. From Baltimore came gods named Palmer, Boog, Murray, Cal, and two gods named Robinson. From Seattle came gods named the Big Unit, Junior, Edgar, and Ichiro. From Detroit came Kaline, Freehan, Lolich, Trammell, Whitaker, and Verlander. From San Francisco came Mays, Marichal, McCovey, Cepeda, Clark, and Posey. From Minnesota came Oliva, Killebrew, Kaat, Carew, and Mauer. From Philadelphia came gods named Lefty, Allen, Schmidt, Rollins, and Utley. From Milwaukee came gods named The Hammer, Mathews, Spahn, Yount, and Molitor. From the pure land of Montreal came gods named Vlad, Rock, The Hawk, and Carter. From Toronto came Alomar, Halladay, Delgado, and He of the Constant Helmet. From St. Louis, gods named The Man, Gibson, Boyer, Simmons, Pujols, Molina, and the Wizard of Oz. From Cleveland, Colavito, Thome, and Omar. From Pittsburgh, Clemente, Stargell, Parker, and McCutchen. From Queens, gods named Seaver, Straw, Doc, Hernandez, and Wright. From one Los Angeles, Koufax, Drysdale, Fernando, Hershiser, Piazza, and Kershaw. From the other Los Angeles, Grich, Joyner, and the fish, Salmon and Trout. From Houston, Bagwell, Biggio, and Richard. From Oakland, Rickey, Rudi, and Blue. From one Chicago, Banks, Santo, Buckner, Sandberg, Jenkins, and Wood. From the other Chicago, gods named Minnie, Little Louie, Baines, and the Big Hurt. From Atlanta, gods named Murphy, Chipper, Smoltz, Glavine, Mad Dog, and Crime Dog. From Cincinnati, Pinson, Flood, Bench, and Morgan. From Texas, Von Ryan’s Express and Pudge. From Kansas City, Brett, McRae, Saberhagen, and Bo. From San Diego, a god named Tony. From the old Washingtons, the Big Train, Hondo, Brinkman, and Osteen. From Tampa came Longoria, Price, and Crawford. From Miami came Sheffield, Cabrera, and Leiter. From Arizona, came Schilling, Grace, and Finley. From Colorado came Walker, Helton, and Bichette. And from an ancient league came gods named Satchel, Josh, Buck, and Cool Papa. Finally, summoned by the Buddha from the realm of the hungry ghosts, came a god with no shoes.
When all the gods had found their places in the dugout, the Buddha declared: “Now, I will set forth The Baseball Sutra for the benefit of the many, for the happiness of the many, out of compassion for the world, for the welfare, the benefit, and the happiness of players and fans.” Yet before he could begin, five hundred gods stood up and made their way across the field toward the bullpen exit. Among them were gods named Rocket, Barry, Big Mac, Sammy, A-Rod, Manny, Rafael, Miguel, Vaughn, Brown, Braun, and the King of Hits. Others rose to stop them, but the Buddha said, “Let them go. It will be many eons before they enter nirvana.” Thus spoke the Buddha.
Copyright © 2020 by Donald S. Lopez Jr.
