Keep Cooking

Ever seen a block of delicious cookie dough the size of a car engine?

Or, for that matter, a tub of divine pasta salad that two babies could take a bath in?

Now I have. Yesterday, Ballunteers joined the staff of Community Kitchens to prepare meals for distribution from their downtown Telegraph kitchen. During our introduction, we learned that more than 300 people are fed with these thoughtfully prepared boxed lunches. Today, it’s turkey sandwiches (Semifreddi’s bread!) with that pasta salad and—if I do say so myself—expertly formed chocolate chip cookies. (Grapes were also involved, but I did not have the requisite fruit-based expertise…) Through food like this, Community Kitchens also provides job training, wraparound support, and pathways to culinary careers.

For us Ballunteers, it was a chance to see old friends and meet new fans. For me, it was the very welcome moment to jump off the internet and into real life with Dawn (“Hey, I follow you! / “I follow you too!”), who in my estimation was the hero of the day by diligently making dozens of containers of pasta salad despite her mortal aversion to mayonnaise. We talked Opening Day, how many games one could reasonably/physically go to with season tickets (…all, right?), favorite stadiums, and the Ballers’ exhibition game in San Jose next week. (Get on the Oakland 68s bus with me!)

More than anything, it was a pleasure to work, however briefly, with the CK staff, who were passionate, kind, and skillful. One example in the “oh yeah, they’ve definitely done this before” category: splitting up our three-person team into two scoopers and one lidder for the salad, which timed out perfectly despite our newbie nature. The food was delicious—we had a taste of the cookies—and, as Community Kitchen espouses in its motto, full of dignity. Another small example: the stickers atop the boxes detailing all of the food’s ingredients, just like you would on any menu, to be mindful of both taste and dietary restrictions.

Courtesy Community Kitchens

Of course, when you step into a space that’s been working just fine without you, you have to guard against that savior complex; you have to be wary of giving yourself a bit too hearty of a pat on the back. You need to remind yourself that you aren’t the good—not yet—but you get to see the good in action. What does matter is tying a few more of those strings of community, lowercase c, together and marking the moment to make sure you’ll be back. One in our volunteer bunch asked a question about the Home Chef program, where meals can also be prepared in home kitchens. The answer was surprisingly obvious and important: we’d much rather have someone consistently making smaller amounts of food for us rather than a bunch all at once and then fall off.

It reminds me of the Ballers’ challenge for Season 2. If it’s a monumental task to start a team and fanily from nothing, it’s an altogether different kind of climb to keep them going.

That’s where we come in, Ballers fans, Oaklanders, East Bayers. Consistency is being there, showing up, making sure other people can count on you. It’s often one of the least glamorous and most important things we can do. Not just one shiny new season. Not just Opening Day but all the days.

And I’m saying this to myself too. I just signed up to volunteer at CK, sans Ballers. I’ll be back. See you there, and see you at Raimondi.

Keep an eye out for future opportunities to volunteer with the Ballers.