Reflecting, not for the first time, on how I’m shaped by where I choose to direct my attention. Am I the only Boomer whose parents have transformed them from sports-phobe to sports-fanatic?

Before my parents moved to Seattle, I could barely tell the difference between baseball and football. I knew they had different-sized balls, and one had a field shaped like a diamond, while the other had stripes. That was pretty much all I knew and all I cared to know, thank you.

But after my parents moved into their new place at the independent living community, my ignorance began to erode. The folks watched a lot of TV sports, not just football and baseball, but also horse-racing, tennis, and golf. Visiting often, I soaked in the rules of some of those games by osmosis.

Then Mom died. Limping along without her, Dad and I discovered that baseball is one of the few uncomplicated pleasures we’re able to share. Well, that and popcorn at the fifth inning. (My dad makes the best popcorn ever, a secret recipe that involves pecans and chili flakes.)

We watched the Mariners’ final marathon game against the Tigers together, relishing Humpy the Salmon’s surprise victory. When Polanco finally hit his walk-off single and the team members began leaping all over each other like joyful puppies, I erupted from Mom’s La-Z-Boy and started jumping around, too.

What?? Not sure how I allowed myself to get so deeply hooked by the lure of sports. Exposure, certainly. I also think the attraction may involve the polar pulls of victory and defeat. Winning’s so fun. Losing’s so awful. When we win, I love watching the Mariner’s hop-in-a-circle victory dance, but I’m also fascinated by the glum, hollow expressions of people in the defeated team’s dugout. My heart twists in sympathy. Oh, yeah. I know how that feels. Sometimes I get so uncomfortable I have to take a breath and lean back. Unclench my fists, unclench my stomach. Tell myself, whoa, Bek, chill. This is only a game.

Maybe that’s one bonus of letting my attention get snared by sports. In addition to the chance to bond with my father, I appreciate the opportunity to notice when I’ve been swept up in the game’s duality. The chance to practice actively detaching. Because life is like that too. Much better if you can step back and experience the action in a larger context—the deeper, calmer space around the game.

That said—Go, Mariners!!