Posts tagged with baseball
Nothing like it really. Not the actual game so much – to tell the truth, real baseball bored him – but rather the records, the statistics, the peculiar balances between individual and team, offense and defense, strategy and luck, accident and pattern, power and intelligence. And no other activity in the world had so precise and comprehensive a history, so specific an ethic, and at the same time, strange as it seemed, so much ultimate mystery.
—Robert Coover, The Universal Baseball Association, Inc., J. Henry Waugh, Prop.
coover story in a week ago’s New Yorker. Haven’t read it yet.
I would argue that the “Z” (UNUSUAL PLAYS) chart was Barnes’ greatest invention of all, for the draw of a “Z” amid the flurry of FACs being overturned throughout the game meant a respite from the grind of flipping and notating and recording. “Z” was weird; “Z” was liberating. For instance, here is “Z” no. 15: Batter hits apparent home run down foul line. Umpire calls it a FOUL BALL, JUST FOUL. Batter argues and umpire rejects his opinion on eyesight. Batter kicked out of game.
Well, this requires innovation, for the number 15 is going to come up several times over the course of typical summer, and the scenario that one must play out in one’s head is dependent on whether the batter in question is Reggie Jackson or, say, Paul Molitor. In order to make the game real, in order to maintain the narrative, each “15” must be unique (at least in one’s own mind), and this can be burdensome.
This is the brilliance of Barnes’ invention: It was grounded in formulas, but it was elastic enough to foster creativity. What I devised in those summers was my first unfinished novel.
Honestly, I Only Read It Hoping There’d Be Weird Stats
The human race has been in a long struggle to eliminate murder. And we will succeed.
—The surprisingly crime-obsessed Bill James talks to Chuck Klosterman on Bill Simmons’ new website.
Adding Popular Crime to my summer reading list.
Already kindled the sample.
So Halladay is the Goblin, Then?
Correction: May 8, 2011
An item in the Extra Bases baseball notebook last Sunday misidentified, in some editions, the origin of the name Orcrist the Goblin Cleaver, which Mets pitcher R. A. Dickey gave one of his bats. Orcrist was not, as Dickey had said, the name of the sword used by Bilbo Baggins in the Misty Mountains in “The Hobbit”; Orcrist was the sword used by the dwarf Thorin Oakenshield in the book. (Bilbo Baggins’s sword was called Sting.)
Researchers say this paragraph from a New York Times blog post approaches the theoretical maximum nerdiness-per-character density, known colloquially as “The LARP Limit”.
What, no Glamdring ref, NYT?
Also, it’s not “Orcrist the Goblin Cleaver.” Orcrist translates to Goblin Cleaver just as Glamdring translates to Foe Hammer.
another contender for the crown:
If The X-Files were a Lord of the Rings-length novel, then “Jose Chung’s” would be its first appendix, a source that is at once in love with the main text and critical of it, a place where real human concerns creep around the edges of the show’s chilly implausibilities.
For the New Season
It appears that Robert Coover’s The Universal Baseball Association, Inc., J. Henry Waugh, Prop. is getting reprinted with a new cover design.
Rube Waddell
Ebbets Field Flannels offers a nice looking reproduction of the 1902 Los Angeles Looloos jersey,
Waddell was an imposing 6’ 1” 190 pounds, and had an intimidating fastball, which he combined with a wicked curve, as well as great control. He was the most dominating strikeout pitcher of his era. He pitched for five major league clubs, but it was his colorful personality and odd behavior that prevented him from staying with any team for very long, and perhaps from having an even greater career than he did.
Waddell was unpredictable, and had a habit of leaving the dugout in the middle of games to follow passing fire trucks to fires. He performed as an alligator wrestler in the offseason. He was easily distracted by opposing team fans who used to hold up puppies and shiny objects, which seemed to put Waddell in a trance on the mound. An alcoholic for much of his adult life, Waddell reportedly spent the entirety of his first signing bonus on a drinking binge (Sporting News called him “the sousepaw”). Waddell’s eccentric behavior led to constant battles with his managers and scuffles with bad-tempered teammates, and complaints from his teammates forced his trade from Philadelphia to St. Louis in early 1908 despite his importance to the team and his continued success. Recent commentators (such as Bill James) have suggested that Waddell may have suffered from a developmental disability, mental retardation, autism, or attention deficit disorder. Essentially, none of these mental issues was either known of or properly diagnosed at the time.
Some more trivia:
On August 19, 1900, Waddell pitched the first game of a doubleheader for Milwaukee, winning in the 17th inning on his own triple. His manager, Connie Mack, offered Waddell a three-day fishing vacation if he agreed to pitch the second game (which had been shortened to 5 innings). Waddell threw 5 scoreless innings for the victory, and headed to Pewaukee Lake for fishing.
Waddell was so bad at holding onto money that the A’s once paid him in dollar bills, in the hopes that he would spend it more slowly. Half of his contract was given directly to his wife, while the rest was doled out as Rube needed it.
These eccentricities made Rube one of baseball’s earliest stars:
He was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1946 by a veterans committee that looked to enshrine a number of players from his era and the previous century who had contributed to the growth of the game. One of Waddell’s contributions was that he was perhaps the greatest drawing card in the first decade of the century, a man whose unique talents and personality drew baseball fans around the country to the ball park.
(⇒ via flannel of the month)
You roll, Player A gets a hit or he doesn’t, gets his man out or he doesn’t. Sounds simple. But call Player A ‘Sycamore Flynn’ or ‘Melbourne Trench’ and something starts to happen. He shrinks or grows, stretches out or puts on muscle…. Strange. But name a man and you make him what he is.
—Robert Coover, The Universal Baseball Association, Inc., J. Henry Waugh, Prop.
Silly Little Game is a documentary about the origins of rotisserie baseball in the early 80’s. It’s airing on ESPN’s various networks several times this week. I’m hoping Robert Coover makes an appearance.
Rawlings and Spring
Just in time for spring, some of Don Hamerman’s prints of found baseballs are available at 20x200.
I love these photographs. Even though baseball has fallen mightily in the years since my childhood, I find the wear and tear– solid reduced to bare twine and core– evoking the nostalgic scent of grass, dirt, and leather.
See more here.
Bill Murray Filling in for Harry Caray
Related to the hotdog theme for today, here’s a pretty great clip of Bill Murray filling in for Harry caray in ‘87. I remember watching this game at the time. It’s pretty great to have Murray do the whole game and just goof off. There are some other clips on youtube from the broadcasts. WGN broadcasts with Harry and Steve Stone are some of my favorite MLB memories. I think Steve Stone is filling in on White Sox broadcasts at the moment, but I haven’t been able to catch one yet.