The 1988 film Bull Durham opens with a voiceover by a main character, Annie Savoy, rhapsodizing about the beauty of baseball. “I believe in the church of baseball,” Annie begins, followed by a rather dubious inventory of gurus and other religions she has tried to follow. After a brief soliloquy about the vicissitudes of the game (including a particularly bad trade by the Cincinnati Reds in the 1960s), she concludes, “It’s a long season, and you gotta trust it. I’ve tried ‘em all, I really have, and the only church that truly feeds the soul, day in, day out, is the church of baseball.”

Baseball, of course, is not a religion. And the only Church that feeds the soul is the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church of Christ. Moreover, we must be cautious about anything that might become an idol in our religious lives or a distraction from the truth of the Catholic faith. Nonetheless, Annie Savoy’s sense of the transcendent tug of baseball rings true for many of us as we anticipate the start of another baseball season in late March.

When an American sports fan refers to “Opening Day,” everyone knows she is talking about the first official day of baseball season. The rhythm of baseball is so ingrained into our national consciousness, we do not need to specify the sport. Other sports have their first weekend or new season’s beginning—their kickoffs, tipoffs and puck drops. But only baseball has Opening Day. The very phrase instills feelings of hope and optimism. Coinciding as it does with the beginning of Spring and the Easter season, it seems intuitive to associate baseball with joyful rejuvenation. For devout baseball fans, other sports are merely something to do between baseball seasons. Other games have their merits, to be sure, but they don’t communicate baseball’s sense of transcendent hope. When the cold, dark days of winter are winding down, we turn to baseball to revive our spirits and instill new hope in the months to come.

As Catholics, we affirm the goodness of all creation. We believe that the world is made for our pleasure and our good. Creation is ordered for our benefit, and we are ordered to enjoy its many gifts. Put another way, the good things of creation contribute to the leisure for which we are created. Indeed, we even understand that work is not an end in itself, but rather the means of providing for our well-being, including time and resources for recreational indulgences. In other words, we work so we can rest.

But rest is not equivalent to doing nothing. Rather, it encompasses and incorporates those leisure activities that contribute to a full, rounded and joyful life. For many of us, baseball is just such an activity. The laconic pace of a well-played baseball game gives us time to watch, discuss, debate and digest the action on the field. And like a good story, we can find ourselves in the narrative arc of the game. We sympathize with the batter who hits a scorching line drive directly at the third baseman—“What a bad break!” We identify with the mishit ball that barely clears the shortstop’s glove for a bloop single— “Sometimes I’d rather be lucky than good.” We commiserate with the outfielder who loses a ball in the sun—“It could happen to anyone.” And we admire the resiliency of the players, as they endure (while we enjoy) a very long, 162-game season.

Christ alone nourishes the soul, despite Annie Savoy’s assertion to the contrary. But if properly ordered in an otherwise prudent spiritual diet, baseball can be a healthy snack between meals.

This article appeared in the April 2025 edition of The Catholic Telegraph Magazine. For your complimentary subscription, click here.