Today is opening day, and as a loyal Cincinnati Reds fan, I take note that it is usually the only day of the season on which the team is tied for first place. I love the game of baseball, with all its nuances, intricacies and traditions. Outsiders find it boring, and I get that. It’s a pastoral sport, played by people who are not worried about a time clock. Its roots go far back beyond those of American football with its industrial era time clocks and smash-mouth demeanor.
A few years back, the Yankees were in the World Series and Alex Rodriguez (“A-Rod”), in trying to make it safely to first base on a ground ball, reached out with his hand and tried to jar the ball lose from the first baseman’s glove. It was considered a low act, and he was rightly scolded by the media and opposing fans. Imagine that, football fans – that’s about the extent of physical brutality in the sport of baseball.
The talent is superb – the ability to hit a ball thrown at you at 90+ mph in a fifth of a second rests on only a few. Owners would replace them tomorrow with lesser-paid players if they could, but the talent is rare enough to support the salary structure of baseball, ludicrous as it is.
The Reds have a young pitcher, Araldos Chapman, who is a Cuban defector. They signed him two years ago to a $30 million five-year deal. Last year was his breaking-in year. He was uncomfortable, and did not understand such concepts as “investment”, as in the team being concerned about his health for financial reasons. He would try to play injured, and the manager and pitching coach had to watch him carefully and convince him that his body was a temple. Chapman did not know who to trust, and did not understand American culture.
A full year later, he is more comfortable, and his delightful personality is coming out. He loves American fast food. He has formed friendships on the team and is learning English. The Reds’ GM, Walt Jocketty, is amazed at how well educated Chapman is – did he suppose, along with most Americans, that Cubans are merely the raw meat of a dictatorship?
Oh, yeah, last year Chapman threw a 105 mph fastball, the fastest pitch ever recorded in baseball history.
Who wrote the following?
1. Is it right for the president of the United States to order the assassination of any other person in the world, whatever the pretext may be?
2. Is it ethical for the president of the United States to order the torture of other human beings?
3. Should state terrorism be used by a country as powerful as the United States as an instrument to bring about peace on the planet?
4. Can the United States do without immigrants, who grow vegetables, fruits, almonds and other delicacies for US citizens? Who would sweep the streets, work as servants in the homes or do the worst and lowest-paid jobs?
5. Is the brain drain – the continuous theft of the best scientific and intellectual minds from poor countries – moral and justifiable?
A: Nelson Mandela
B: Jean-Bertrand Aristide
C: Fidel Castro
D: Barack Obama
E: Araldos Chapman
F: Michele Bachmann
The author of those words also notes that ““…today, the United States has nothing of the spirit behind the Philadelphia declaration of principles formulated by the 13 colonies that rebelled against English colonialism. Today, it is a gigantic empire that could never have been imagined by the country’s original founders.”
I see in baseball a passion for life expressed in pursuit of excellence and respect for others. It holds my interest even as I know that they are just throwing the ball, catching the ball. It is sullied in some ways – I don’t like that they feel the need to “honor America” with the national anthem before each game. Military flyovers at big games are an abomination. Regular season games, with the flashing lights and pre-recorded spontaneous enthusiasm, are often visual and aural pornogrpahy. But it otherwise preserves our best traditions.
We recently sat through four games in spring training in Arizona. During those games we chatted and laughed with perfect strangers, often losing track of events on the field. When the woman sitting next to me yelled “can of corn!”, I quizzed her on her basic knowledge of the game – turns out she also knew “chin music,” “hum batter,” “rope” and “parachute.” There was no anger expressed at events on the field, and of course every spectator possessed Superior Knowledge of the game over that of the the manager and general manager of each team.
It’s a splendid little game, made for the American way of life that existed before we became a military/industrial behemoth. Of course football is more popular by a hundred cubits. That doesn’t necessarily speak well of us.