Tribalism in politics, religion, and baseball

It feels like our society is more divided than at any other point in my recollection. As November 5 approaches, I am filled with uncertainty, not about whom to vote for, but about how our country will survive the possible consequences of this election. I'm not going to tell you how I think you should vote. If you know me, that should be obvious. If you don't, then please comment below or get in touch with me via Facebook and we can have a long discussion about it. The object of this post is not to promote a particular candidate or party, but to examine the phenomenon of what I'll call "tribalism" in our society, especially as it is expressed in politics, religion, and baseball.

Let me start with perhaps the least controversial of the three: baseball. As many of you know, I am a lifelong, diehard fan of the New York Mets, who recently ended their amazing season and postseason at the hands of the Los Angeles Dodgers. Being of the philosophical bent that I am, I have pondered over the years why I am a Mets' fan and what exactly does that mean. My usual explanation is that I have always been a Mets' fan, my family of upbringing were Mets' fans and my parents were Brooklyn Dodgers' fans who embraced the new National League team, which appeared on the scene a few years after the Dodgers left. I was too young to understand this at the time, but according to my parents, there was no way that they were going to start rooting for the Yankees. To give my parents the ethical benefit of the doubt, I think I can attribute at least part of their fervor for the Brooklyn Dodgers to Branch Rickey and his signing of Jackie Robinson in 1945 to facilitate the end of the color barrier in Major League Baseball.

Now some fifty-five years after the Miracle Mets amazed the world with a World Championship in 1969 (which I vaguely remember) and fifty-one years after the Mets lost in the 1973 World Series to the Oakland A's (which I painfully remember), I cannot claim any moral high ground in my decision to remain a steadfast fan. Is it because the colors of royal blue and orange form the most beautiful palette from among the thirty MLB team designs? Is it because I am fond of certain players -- players who may change from one season to the next and may even be playing for the Yankees or Dodgers next year? Is it because I have always lived in New York? Then why don't I feel the same way about the Yankees? (I don't.) Is it because Mr. and Mrs. Met are the coolest mascots in all of sportsdom? I don't think it's any of those reasons. I think it's probably just tribalism.

So if I'm a Mets' fan because I've always been a Mets' fan, and my family of upbringing were Mets' fans, does the same apply to my choices of political party affiliation and religion? Yes and no. While it is correct that my political party and religion align closely with that of my late parents, I investigated other religions, before finally settling on the same one that my parents promoted to my brother and me when we were kids. Am I open to changing my religion? Probably. If a deity revealed himself or herself to me I am likely to accept that revelation, once I've scrutinized the evidence and convinced myself that it is not mere fancy or mental illness at work. Do I think it's a coincidence that most people adhere to the religion of their parents, just as I have? No, certainly not. I believe that tribalism is the primary reason that most folks end up either Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Zoroastrian, etcetera, etcetera... Of course there are many converts; I know some personally. I've written multiple blogposts about my own religious views and background so I don't think it's necessary to elaborate here. If you're curious, you can message me and we can discuss it further. 

My parents, especially my father, certainly influenced my political outlook, but I'd like to think that I make my decisions on whom to vote for after much research, introspection, and soul-searching. As we face a presidential election of great consequence, I've given much thought to both candidates, and continue to be amazed that the race is as close as it is. How a thinking, feeling person can stomach the other candidate is beyond my comprehension, but I believe that tribalism, prejudice and a lack of critical reasoning are contributing factors in why many people, including some whom I know and love, will be voting for the other person. I will cast my vote on November 5 and encourage you to do the same, and please, try to think a little "outside the tribe" at this critical time in our democracy. 

Why not Liberty?

 

If you're a regular follower of this blog, or a Facebook friend, you know that I am a diehard fan of the New York Mets, who recently suffered defeat at the hands of the Los Angeles Dodgers in the National League Championship Series. 

But just as I was grieving the Mets' loss, another New York City team was winning a championship, and I didn't even realize it until the next morning. The New York Liberty won the WNBA Final against the Minnesota Lynx in overtime at Barclays Center in Brooklyn on the same night that the Dodgers ended the Mets' amazing run in L.A. 

I was aware that the Liberty were playing in the Final in Brooklyn at the same time as the Mets were trying to survive another day in the MLB playoffs. But I'm not much of a basketball fan, having attended only one professional game in my life. It was a Knicks' game at Madison Square Garden over thirty year ago. I went with a group of friends and don't remember much about the game, not even who the Knicks played or who won. The only thing that I remember about the experience was how high up our seats were. I did enjoy watching basketball games in high school and college (both of my schools' teams played in the gymnasium, not an arena, and were not in one of the highly competitive intermural leagues). 

If the Knicks or Nets make it to the NBA Final I would probably watch the games, just as I would watch the Giants or Jets if either made it to the Super Bowl. I cheered for the Cleveland Cavaliers when they won the NBA championship in 2016 because my relatives in Ohio are avid fans. It was the first time in several decades that a major league team in any sport in Cleveland had won a championship. (I also root for the Cleveland Guardians on behalf of my Ohio kin, as long as they're not playing the Mets!)

Besides baseball, my favorite sport to watch is football (or soccer, as you Americans call it). I prefer international matches (like the World Cup or UEFA European Championship) but will occasionally watch an MLS match, especially if a New York team is playing.  

The New York Liberty will get their ticker-tape parade up the "Canyon of Heroes" on October 24, and I will not be there. For one thing, I hate crowds, and for another, I can't really claim to be a fan of the team. I don't think I've ever watched a game and would feel like a bit of a fraud, only jumping on the band wagon after they've won a championship. Yes, I would root for them because they are a New York team, but I haven't suffered the agonies of defeat with them in prior seasons, as I have with my beloved, though often underperforming Mets.

Besides tennis and golf, women's professional sports generally don't get the attention or revenues that men's sports do. As a feminist, I should be more supportive of the WNBA, as well as the National Women's Soccer League and the recently launched Association of Fastpitch Professionals (a women's softball league with a New York team). There is fame and fortune in women's gymnastics and figure skating, and many female Olympic athletes do get the renown (if not the money) that they deserve. The U.S. women's national soccer team has had far more success internationally than the men's team, and they've succeeded in settling a lawsuit with the U.S. Soccer Federation for equal pay with their male counterparts.

So congratulations to the New York Liberty on their championship. I'll probably be paying you a little more attention in the future.

Be happy with what you've got: living with disabilities and other inconveniences

 

Sometimes the most trite, well-worn platitudes really do ring true. I recently returned from a two week trip to beautiful Turkiye. It was supposed to be 18 days, but then I got sick and ended up in the emergency room. An overnight stay in a foreign hospital, where few doctors or nurses speak English, is not the ideal side-trip for a vacation. I left (against medical advice) and got on a JFK-bound plane the next day. I missed a couple of cities that I had planned (and paid) to visit, not to mention missing a traditional Turkish bath, seeing a Whirling Dervish ritual and getting a ride in a hot air balloon in Cappadocia.  Sigh.

I absolutely loved Turkiye, and if we happen to be friends on Facebook I encourage you to check out the hundreds of photos I posted. I plan to return, hopefully in a year or two, to pick up where I left off. This trip was a group tour, but I'm trying to stir up interest among friends and family to join me on a trip where we see what we want and go at our own pace. A possible itinerary I'm contemplating is flying to Athens (I've never been to Greece), then visiting a couple of Greek islands (like Rhodes or Lesbos), then taking a ferry to Turkiye, maybe to Fethiye or Antalya (where I left off this time) and then on to Cappadocia, Konya and Gobekli Tepe. We can then fly to Istanbul for a few days before returning to the USA. 

So what does this have to do with "living with disabilities"? I think I am in pretty good health for my age, and generally able to withstand hours of sightseeing in rugged terrains or crowded cities. I am not blind or deaf and I have all of my limbs. "Disabilities" may be too strong a word, but I do have to live with IBS, lactose intolerance, and chronic hip bursitis. (I've had IBS for decades and bursitis for years, but the lactose intolerance only reared its ugly head about a year ago after a fateful and very unpleasant tussle with an ice cream cone. I'd never had a problem with dairy before, and was told by my doctor that lactose intolerance sometimes comes with age.)

It was a bit of a bummer missing out on Turkish ice cream, yogurt and cheese, but the tour group always had a substitute for me. (I was apparently the only "problem child" among us.) I learned to love baklava almost as much as ice cream, and kept reminding myself that excellent oat milk-based frozen treats awaited me at home. (I've already indulged in a vegan cone from Van Leeuwen, which has two stores in my neighborhood.) The delicate and crispy herb-infused appetizers I was given at lunch were probably as good as the feta-cheese-filled ones my fellow travelers were served. I've learned to cope, and to adjust to life as a semi-vegan (well, not really -- I still eat meat of all kinds, eggs and butter, not to mention all forms of carbohydrates.)

I began to feel ill a few days before I ended up in the hospital, and the first group excursion I missed was a yacht ride in the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Fethiye. I felt it best to rest in my hotel room while my fellow travelers sailed, swam and snorkeled the Turquoise Coast. After resting a while I felt well enough for a walk around the piers and into downtown, where I indulged in a little "retail therapy." (This was probably the most expensive stomachache of my life.) 

The emergency room visit came in the next city, Antalya. After being sick but struggling along for four days, I asked our tour director if he could connect me with a doctor who spoke English. I didn't think I was dying but I'd never been sick for so many days straight, and the Imodium and Pepto Bismol I'd brought along were just not doing it. He suggested I speak to guest services at the hotel, who produced an English-speaking nurse within 15 minutes. It was a Sunday, so no doctors were available. But I followed the nurse's advice and accepted a cab ride to the private hospital which was practically across the street from the hotel. After another 15 minutes I saw a nurse, had blood drawn and was admitted. As far as hospitals go, it was very nice and the nurses extremely attentive. I saw a doctor the next morning, who wanted me to stay a few more days for more tests, but at that point I just wanted to go home. 

My hospital breakfast -- I must have forgotten to tell them I'm lactose intolerant, but I ate the olives, egg, roll, butter and cup of tea.

The view from my private hospital room was lovely (you can see the Taurus mountains and a bit of the Mediterranean) but it still pales in comparison to the awesome view from my hotel room (see first photo above). I paid the bill (about $1300 USD for an overnight stay, lab tests and an IV for pain and hydration) and was able to fly home the next day. I saw my own doctor two days later, and she said I likely had some kind of stomach bug, but since I was feeling much better and the Turkish meds were doing the trick, she wasn't particularly concerned. 

So I learned to make the most of a wonderful and yet at times unpleasant situation. And to quote another trite truism, "there's no place like home," especially with my cuddly cat, Dexter.