The Baseball Romantic

12/26/13
Today I begin my foray into the world of blogging. I've considered it for quite a while, but I wasn't sure if I had anything worthwhile to say, or if anyone would read it if I did. But I enjoy reading good baseball writing (Roger Angell, Tom Boswell, George Will, and Roger Kahn are some of my favorites), so I finally decided to try my hand at it.

Baseball is the sport of the romantic. It lends itself to purple prose. It's easy to romanticize the game's past, the green grass, the fresh air, the crack of the bat, the break of the curveball, the guile of the pitcher, the brawn of the hitter, and on and on it goes. Baseball is a delight to the senses.

It is visual art in the beauty and grandeur and charm of its parks. Also in the vivid colors of the uniforms, worn by both players and fans. A grandstand full of fans wearing the same cap as the players is a pleasant sight.

It is also performance art in the graceful ballet of the players. Middle infielders turning a double play while avoiding a barreling baserunner, the lanky first baseman's stretch, an outfielder elegantly tracking down a long fly ball and hauling it in, then twirling and tossing a rainbow one-hopper to a waiting infielder, the batter gently waving his bat toward the pitcher and then taking his rigid yet relaxed stance, then unleashing his bat in a compact, controlled, powerful arc. Speed, grace, power, elegance. 

See? Purple prose.

I am a baseball romantic. I have a highly idealistic view of baseball. Maybe because I played through high school and then held various jobs in baseball, maybe in spite of all that.   My writings in the future will reflect my appreciation for the skill involved in playing the game well, may admiration for the people who play  and coach it (at all levels), and my attention to the subtle nuances of the game that are sometimes disregarded. I hope you enjoy it.