Glaciers, comas and baseball

There are times in society where it is perfectly normal for nothing to take place for hours on end. When we sleep, in most cases, we are not demanding a lot of activity be going to entertain us. If we slip into a coma, it is reasonable to assume a lack of progress of productive human motion. Most people will not sit and watch a glacier or C-span unless they want to sit and watch hours of nothing happening with occasional incidental motions.

It is with this impatience that I dread the upcoming season of baseball, for no other reason than it will actually be played. Apparently going on strike took too much effort.

Most kids’ mothers preach the golden rule, and that one should not say something nasty about someone or something else. These mothers did not watch baseball.

The final straw for me came when trying to witness a pitcher perform what should be the most basic function in baseball…throwing the ball to the catcher. The person is called the catcher for a self-evident reason. However, complicating this simple motion was a runner on first base trying to steal second. My family taught me as a kid that stealing was wrong, but then again baseball has enough problems worrying about athletes on steroids to worry about petty crimes like stealing bases.

The pitcher kept throwing the ball to the first baseman to “keep him honest.” (This apparently didn’t work, because the minute the pitcher turned his eye away, the runner acted like he was going to steal again. He was not scared straight.) After about 15 minutes of this, which included commercials, the obligatory celebrity-cams, mound conferences about everything but speeding up the pace of the game, and ballplayers practicing their skoal bandit commercial looks, my patience began to wear thin.

After the pitcher again threw the ball to the first baseman, I yelled “That’s it! If the runner would just promise not to steal second base, the pitcher could just throw it to the catcher and we can all get on with our lives! Enough already!” My friends explained that baseball was a chess match, and that having the runner promise not to steal second would take away an element of this chess match. Folks, first of all, if you are watching chess, you need to be euthanized. Perhaps you already have been and no one told you. Secondly, for a chess game to officially become a match, the pieces have to actually be moved. Otherwise, you just have a chess board, not an actual match itself.

The pitcher threw it to the first baseman again, and I announced to the room “I hate this game!”

Rumor has it that game did end, because cruel fate of life, baseball cannot end in a tie.

I now have the NFL Network, and Pro Football Season 2007 starts in 6 months. The draft is a month away. I can feel the excitement.

As I say my prayers, I ask the lord to turn every baseball player into someone French. That way they will go on strike and refuse to work.

Unfortunately, I know what will happen. One month from now, pitchers and catchers will take the field. A month after that, The pitcher will throw a ball that reaches the catcher.


2 Responses to “Glaciers, comas and baseball”

  1. Kevin Wells says:

    Where do I begin? Perhaps I’ll start at the end. Baseball is not for you. Baseball is not for cheap thrills. Baseball is not for meatheads. Baseball is not for the feeble minded. Nor is it for those who are easily amused. Patience is a virtue. But to put a sport down for the simple fact that you do not, can not, and never will understand it is just wrong. It shows ignorance on your part. I’ll end with a great phrase: “It is better to be dumb and keep your mouth shut and make everyone wonder than it is to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”

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