A few nights ago, during the pursuance of some particular thought, I happened to forget the name of the stadium for the Seattle Mariners. This forgetfulness, of course, occurred while I was thinking of the baseball stadium itself, and not being able to recall the place’s current name held up my entire thought. I was, in other words, unable to continue in my mental progress until remembering the corporate term that I am supposed to apply to the superstructure of steel located at 1250 First Avenue South, Seattle, Washington.
While thus straining myself to force to mind the name in question, I suddenly achieved a moment of clarity that caused me to give up the endeavor altogether; in fact, so clear was this clarity that I saw entirely through the problem, and never again will I have the same issue. To help those who have not yet achieved this same clarity of mine, I have detailed its steps below.
First, one must feel a sense of anger over the issue, and as unwelcome as this first step might seem to be, it is necessary. One must become angry at the wasteful tediousness involved in keeping track of the exchange of million-dollar, made-up names, and one must become angry at the arbitrariness of the entirety; further, one must become angry at the anger itself, at the very existence of that which should not be.
In my particular case, this anger took the form of asking myself what matters it to me that Rich Kid, son of Rich Kid, has bought the naming rights to that which is already built and known. That is between him, his money, and the entity swindling him out of it. Certainly, I was myself not a part of the transaction; for I very much know that I have never attached a price tag to my tongue.
After this first step, there is no further, and concentrated anger alone is enough to change the situation. Thus, to recap, if one becomes angry at the branding involved in a sports stadium, one will quickly stop taking part in it oneself, which ultimately results in the achievement of a clarity of the most clear; further, this clarity, which takes the feeling of a great unburdening, allows one to forgo the ever-changing system of using whatever term one might be told, and one will, instead, feel free to use whatever term is best. Then, one will find it quite natural to leave the brand-mongers to their branding, letting them buy and sell their naming rights, trading smoke for mist, while letting one, all the same, go on speaking the same, laughing all the while at those who, while starting with so much, are themselves so little.
In my particular case, the result of my clarity is to know that the proper name of the baseball stadium located at the corner of Dave Niehaus Way and Edgar Martinez Drive is The House That Griffey Built, and I will not forget this fact in the future, no matter the bandying about that may occur between Rich Kid, son of Rich Kid, and his rival, Rich Kid, son of Rich Kid. Brand the poor ballpark, those debasers may be able to do, but the replaced words in question, no matter their letters, will merely go to their writers’ eternal shame, marking them forever as that which they are, which is, of course, next to nothing.
Lastly, it may prove worthwhile to note that this issue of the terminology applied to sports stadiums may, perhaps, be one of those cases of the wide world of sports being able to serve as a window into the wider world. For the purposes of the clarity in question, however, this extension of application is outside the purview, and to the reader, therefore, is left the looking out of this window, if there, indeed, be anything to see through it.