“When in Rome…” is the saying that came to mind when asked to go to my first Yankees baseball game. I was living in New York City; experiencing Broadway shows, new ethnic cuisine, learning about the culture, but had yet ventured into the New York sports scene. Admittedly, I’m not much of a baseball fan and I rarely know the mascot of any Major League baseball team if asked, but I will never forget a moment captured in the wake of this sporting experience.
Out of sheer curiosity I went with my die-hard Yankee fan friend to a few games. Gradually, as I started to get to know the players and coaches, I caught myself more engaged in the game. I wanted to know about Jose Posada and his family, Joe Girardi, Derek Jeter, and this player called A-Rod. I followed them to the World Series in 2009; they won!
I was ecstatic for this new-found team I loved. My friend and I decided to go to the Yankees championship parade. We got on the subway headed for 5th Avenue. Clearly, this was an all-out celebration for the whole city. As we got out of the subway station, all we could see was a sea of people, confetti, bullhorns, signs, and policemen. Floods of people were standing on vehicles to get a glimpse. Every floor from every high-rise building was full of spectators dangling halfway out of windows to catch a glimpse.
As the team came through it looked and felt like the entire avenue was moving. The rumbling and shaking of the crowd was overwhelming; it was energetic and electric. After the team passed, we made our way through the chaos to the subway. There were thousands and thousands of people trying to cram into small narrow stairwells and onto a train. All we could feel were bodies, shoulder to shoulder and breathing—a human herd of cattle! I held onto my friend’s hand so we wouldn’t get separated. I was scared, really scared. We finally pushed our way through a train door. Minutes into the ride, I started hearing murmurings from the crowd and a sense of heightened anxiety. The information passed down to our area was that a four year old boy was separated from his father and they needed everyone to help find him. Immediately I saw the look of terror in others eyes. Everyone was looking for this little boy and calling out his name. If this little boy got separated, it would be nearly impossible for him to find his dad in this sea of thousands. I imagine this would be a parent’s worst nightmare. It was incredible, the sense of panic and duty that struck this huge mass of people. As one, we passed the word down telling the other carts. I didn’t know what else to do so I began praying. The searching went on for about ten minutes. For that dad and the rest of us, it seemed like an eternity. Finally, we heard a voice yell out saying that they found him! You could hear a collective sigh of relief and tears from nearly every single person on that cart. People began cheering and clapping as if this was the greatest joy we had all celebrated that day—and for many of us, it was.
New York is a city, not necessarily known for its spirit of compassion, but that day, this group of people came together in a way that showed concern, kindness, and empathy for a complete stranger in crisis. And isn’t that what we’re all called to do for one another as members of God’s team? When we put ourselves in the shoes of another in a time of need, it’s most often a victory for everyone.
Savannah White, Edmond Campus Director of Worship
