"Take Me Out to the Slow Game," Episode #178, May 8, 2026

This podcast is a companion to our Wellness Compass column. What follows is the text of the column we emailed out this week on this same topic:

“Baseball is too slow for me—I prefer sports like basketball with its constant action and scoring” is a comment we overheard at our grandson’s Little League game this week. Because it wasn’t said directly to us, we didn’t have the opportunity to respond with all the ways we love the slow pace of baseball. We’d like to share those with you now, and because this is a wellness column, we can’t resist the opportunity to reflect on what the slowness of baseball has to teach us.  

First on the list would have probably been that we love the game just because it is slow. Even with the advent of the pitch clock and a few other changes to speed up the game for our impatient culture, the game still has a refreshing pace that allows you to savor each pitch, each at bat, and each play in the field. The pace allows you to pause long enough to wonder, “Should they bring the infield in?” or “Is this a good time to hit and run?” or “Should the outfield be playing this batter to pull?” or “The pitcher has thrown three consecutive four-seam fastballs—so is it time to throw a circle change?”  

The opinion that baseball is too slow has been voiced more frequently over the last few decades. Perhaps a different way to frame that perception is that life by contrast has increasingly sped up and maybe even become too fast. 

Baseball is a celebration of slowness. It resonates with the slow food movement and the increased interest in slow travel. Within medicine there is even a new movement called slow medicine, which is pushing back on the limitations of the five to seven minute office visits.  

Speaking of medicine, Scott tried something very counter-cultural (and counter-intuitive for him) this week. He had a doctor’s appointment and his doctor was running late so he had a half hour to himself in the waiting room. Because he was thinking about this concept of patience and slowing down, he resisted getting his phone out and checking the news or his email or …. last night’s box scores.  He sat for a full thirty minutes without reaching for his phone. He took some deep breaths and practiced some mindfulness meditation. When he returned home he was embarrassed to report that this was not easy for him to do. Like the woman we overheard at our grandson’s baseball game, he, too, sometimes craves action and stimulation.  

Life has its own series of waiting rooms. Waiting for clarity on a difficult issue. Waiting for a loved one to find their way. Waiting for healing. Waiting for peace. We long for progress and some kind of action that will bring quick resolution. When we can’t just scroll ahead we are invited to enter into the wisdom of slowness and the practice of patience. 

Three thousand years ago the author of the book of Ecclesiastes gave us this hopeful wisdom, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” 

May we find the grace to trust the season we are in and to patiently embrace the waiting and unfolding, even when we wish things would move a little faster.  

And may we watch a few games of baseball to remind us of the benefits of slowing down.