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Baseball
Some say that
baseball is the national pastime, while others believe it is watching
celebrities have nervous breakdowns.
As that debate rages on, we will focus on baseball.
Baseball dates back
to 1845, when Alexander Cartwright created an actual rulebook with page
numbers and everything. He convinced players to stop throwing the ball at
the runner, and he replaced the upright poles with soft, harmless bases
(the kind of forward thinking inspired by impalement).
Not everyone agreed
with his rules, but Cartwright had the upper hand: He could write.
Soon there were
"umpires" and, shortly thereafter, chants to "kill the
umpire!" I can be watching a broadcast two thousand miles away and
still shout loud enough for the umps to hear.
"Are you
blind?! I'm watching frame by frame. Kill the umpire!"
Helpful tip: When
you're watching a recorded game, you have to shout extra loud to go back
in time.
And though baseball
has evolved into the higajillion-dollar
business it is today, there are still some basic flaws. Why, for
instance, do we call it a walk when the player jogs to first base and
then becomes a runner? And how come a "strike" when a player misses
the ball?
And why, God, why,
must each game take longer than childbirth? Really. Games are so long
that we have to stop and sing just to stay awake. That may have worked
for Alexander Cartwright, but you and I get 300 channels.
But I digress. The
real problem with baseball is Joe Morgan.
During his career,
Joe broke all sorts of records, but what made him truly great was that,
on the field, he didn't have a microphone. Now he announces games with a
mission to not once change his inflection until we are completely
spellbound and become his minions.
"The two-seamer fastball, see, moves different because of how
you hold it. See, I'm holding it different. Two-seamer.
I'm holding it different. For fastballs. Jones just hit a home run, but look at my fingers..."
So it goes.
When I hear about
the size of the universe, I'm embarrassed by how much time I give to
baseball. Come the playoffs, I schedule my weeks around it.
"The funeral's
at three?! Shoot, that doesn't work for me. Yankees-Braves."
But baseball is
a part of life, as evidenced by The Natural, For Love of the Game,
Eight Men Out, and of course Ed, the blockbuster hit starring
Matt LeBlanc and his monkey Ed, who not only plays baseball but also
wrote the script. These films give meaning to our pastime and, yea, our
journeys on earth.
[Enter movie
trailer voice] "For those who marveled at the story of Shoeless Joe
comes an even more remarkable tale of hope and glory ... that of Legless
Bob."
Baseball has even
shaped our language. Before 1845, for instance, you couldn't say
"right off the bat." Things just happened as they happened, in
total chaos. You couldn't "cover your bases" or give a
"ballpark figure" or -- and this was especially frustrating --
make it to first base with your date.
And let's not
forget the woman in Texas who knocked out a burglar with her
34-ounce Louisville Slugger. If it weren't for
baseball, that scene could have played out much differently.
So you non-fans must forgive us our passion for baseball. It
takes our mind off the end of the world and places it on something that
is, if not more entertaining, certainly more safe. That's right. SAFE. Are you kidding? Kill the umpire!
© Jason
Love
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