Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Major League Baseball?

Someone ordered home delivery of the local daily newspaper, and it wasn't me. The paper was delivered this morning, and I was compelled by forces unknown to pick it up.

I turned to the sports section because that is what I do, an old habit from back in the day, y'know, when I was 12 years old; and I started reading the article about the Cleveland Indians' baseball game against the Toronto Blue Jays at a place called Rogers Centre, which, I assume is the domed stadium, Exhibition Stadium, that the J-dogg and I visited a few years back, staying in a hotel room inside the stadium overlooking the field. On that trip, I got lost in Canada ... yeah, I know Canada is fucking huge ... when I say I got lost in Canada, I don't mean I got lost in Toronto or between Toronto and Niagara Falls, I mean I got lost in fucking Canada, driving around in the fucking wilderness, trying to find some civilized area, some small town, some person laying on the berm ... I drove around Canada for hours and hours ... and hours.

I look at that horrible Canadian experience as one of the reasons that the J-dogg has sunken into world of substance abuse ... the pain and loneliness induced by the desolate wilderness and the isolation and the hours spent alone with me in the car, wandering, ever wandering in the fucking tundra known as Canada.

But I digress from my outline ... I was told that I should have an outline to write my blog entries ... and that wasn't just a conversation on IM or e-mail ... that was a face-to-face meeting with the organizer extraordinaire of the fucking Midwest.

Anyway, in baseball, for those unfamiliar with the National Pastime, like all you communists, terrorists, and soccer sissies out there, there are occasions when a runner is between bases (and I am not going to explain the rudimentary things like "What is a runner?" or "What is a base?" or "What is the definition of 'between'?") and the defensive players, the fielders, try to tag the runner out. This is called a "rundown," and the fielders toss the ball back and forth and the runner runs back and forth until he reaches a base, which is a safe haven (unless the base is occupied by one of his teammates) or is tagged out. Now, believe it or not, a rundown is an elementary and not unusual situation (and at times, something a runner does intentionally to try to gain time to allow other runners on other bases to advance to the next base) in baseball, something that is practiced in amateur baseball at every level.

There is even a game called "pickle in the middle" that is played by kids, young and young-at-heart, in which there are two bases separated by some distance, 40, 50, 60 feet, whatever (it's a kids' game; there are no real rules about that sort of thing; and the bases can be anything, a chalk square on the sidewalk, a t-shirt or piece of cardboard on the grass, a crack in the driveway ... like I say, it's a kids' game; and when adults get involved, professional adult baseball managers, for instance, they fuck things up, just like everything else in the whole damn world is fucked up by adults who are "professionals"), and there is a runner, sometimes two, and two fielders who try to tag the runner out. The fielders throw the ball back and forth; and when the runner feels he or she (the girl who lived across the street was really good) can make it to the other base and score a run (or a point, but "run" is the preferred nomenclature), the runner dashes off the base. If the fielder has the ball at the other base, the runner puts on the brakes and is then the "pickle" in the middle of the bases, and the fielders try to tag the runner out before the runner can return to the original base (no run scored) or get to the other base (one run scored). Ideally, the fielder with the ball runs at the runner and forces the runner to commit to running away, whereupon the fielder fires the ball to his or her compadre, who catches the ball and tags the runner out. The runner may, however, stop abruptly, anticipating that throw, in which case the compadre fielder now with the ball runs down the runner, trying to tag the runner out or tossing the ball to the original fielder, who tries to make the tag.

It's quite simple, really, and should take only a maximum of one throw to get the runner out ... the fielder with the ball runs down, that is, runs toward the runner, making the runner commit to fleeing so as to avoid being tagged out. The compadre fielder starts running towards the runner and the original fielder, who has the ball, and yells, "NOW," when he or she is in a position to catch the ball and tag the runner out, whether the runner keeps running toward the compadre fielder or stops and tries to go the other way in an effort to elude being tagged out. At the signal, "NOW," the fielder with the ball throws it to his compadre, who catches the ball, and tags the runner out.

I learned how to play "pickle in the middle" when I was six or seven ... it was practice for throwing, catching, and running bases. And if one was the runner, it was always a good thing if the fielder on the downhill side missed the ball, then the runner could score a lot of runs while the ball bounced downhill, fielder running in pursuit of the ball ... the fielder many times ending the game by throwing down the baseball mitt and sitting down on the curb or grass as the ball rolled into the sewer, to be retrieved with a garden rake taken from any open garage, and then being allowed to dry in the midday sun. Although, I learned it at six or seven, I played it with Matt and the J-dogg out in the yard when I was older, teaching them the game.

If you have missed the point, and if you are a "professional," I can guarantee that you have, indeed, missed the point, a rundown is not something new to a Major League player. So, in the Indians-Blue Jays game yesterday, a Blue Jays runner was caught in a rundown between first base and second base. As the runner was returning to first base, the Indians' first baseman was thrown the
ball. The runner skidded to a stop and started to run to second base. The first baseman ran toward the runner going to second base and threw the ball, hoping to get it to the shortstop, who was covering second base, and hit the runner in the back with the ball. The runner scampered into second base, and the first baseman looked like an idiot. That happens sometimes. Nobody's perfect.

The brilliant and insightful (sarcasm dripping from the italicized words) professional manager of the Cleveland Indians, Eric Wedge, said, after the game, "So many things happen to young players at this level. You have to learn from it and don't make the same mistake twice because the situation will come up again."

What? What the fuck did he say? Was that the first time the first baseman ever participated in a rundown, either as a fielder or as a runner? Was it? What the fuck? What kind of a comment was that ... "things happen to young players at this level."

Ohhhhhh .... Aaaaahhhh, I get it ... the Indians brought up a 7-year-old first baseman to give him some experience. He must have been a contest winner ... he got to play one game in the majors ... that had to be it. His first time ... what a marketing tool. I mean, if that's not the case, the first baseman on the world champion Little League team from Columbus, Georgia, surely is available and understands how to do a rundown play. He practiced it a that level.

Fire the fucking manager, already. He's a stiff.

Posted by Bill at September 5, 2006 12:15 PM