Jane Leavy has this awesome quote in the intro to her biography of Sandy Kaufax. She says, (and I'm paraphrasing here since I don't have the book any more) she longed for the company of people who "didn't confuse the poetry of baseball with iambic pentameter."
I feel like that a lot. Not only for baseball fans, but for baseball fans with a divine appreciation for the art of it, not just the sport of it.
But there IS a subtle poetry to baseball. And it's a kind of poetry that's hard to appreciate at times, especially for people who think that baseball is just "too slow." But there's something remarkable about a well executed 6-4-3; the way the ball floats almost seamlessly from one glove to another. There's something majestic about the quickness of the cut-off man and the tension that builds during those moments in anticipation of the next pitch. There's most certainly nothing like hearing the crack of wood on cork and leather and knowing that it's gone.
Like Shakespeare, there's nothing like it. At least, not that I've seen. It has a way of keeping score that allows us to recount and visually recreate every play, from where a ball was caught, to how someone grounded out. It's not a linear progression, like all other American sports. You don't bounce back and forth from one goal-line or basket to another. You start and end at HOME. It has its own complete language of non-verbal communications. Managers signaling from dug-outs with ear-tugs and cap-swipes. Catchers holding up deuces for pitchers. Base-coaches waving arms saying stop! or go home! There are no headphones, no play-books or names, and absolutely no instant replay. A call is a call. (Just don't call the ump a cock-sucker.)
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