Sunday, October 5, 2008

baseball

Baseball is a sport designed to inflict the maximum amount of embarrassment on kids with bad hand-eye coordination. Football, for example, takes those same kids and makes them some form of linebacker. Soccer puts those kids as fullbacks. Basketball is similar to baseball in its hand-eye requirement, but it at least allows for a merciful option like immediately passing the ball to someone else upon any/all contact, then retreating to cry quietly in the corner.

However, baseball requires everyone on the team be capable of minimal hand-eye coordinative activities at any possible moment (further discrimination against the coordinative impaired, as the exact moment of the need of coordination is not known beforehand, and can manifest itself in a flash). There is no escaping these duties. In the best case, you're allowed to retreat to right field and pick the grass and pray to heaven that there aren't any accursed lefties on the other team.

Hardcore baseball fans will laud the game to you, and tell you that its values lie in being the "National pastime", and in its absurd enshrinement of the good of slower-paced play (if I wanted a slower-paced activity, I'd take up knitting, not a "sport"). Be aware, though, that their real love of baseball stems from its utility in acting as a method of genetic cleansing. Uncoordinated saps are easily picked out and can be excluded from the gene pool by general social ostracism.

Furthermore, "batting" is just the practice of forcing people to stand next to fast moving objects and attempt to magically place the "bat", through a motion of swinging, into the path of said fast moving object, with a slight probability of the object being headed at your face, which causes you to wear a helmet. The act of "hitting" the ball is improved upon by continually "choking up" on the bat, as if changing position on the bat would actually improve the changes of hitting said fast moving object.

Kinder members of our race, who feel bad for other members of the species who are about as popular as lepers in the Bible, will call out "good eye" in any circumstance in which the batter does not "swing" (that is, wave the bat around in the general direction of the "plate" and "strike zone"). Even if the ball sailed on clouds of marshmallows and presented itself to the batter as an object the size of several suns, if the batter does not choose to swing, these kind people will still laud the batter's eye. There is a special section of hell reserved for these people, which is slightly less hot than the section reserved for the other coaches, players, and, most especially, the inventor of baseball (whatever his cursed name be). They will most likely also be served lemonade for their misdirected kindness (true kindness is shown by immediately enrolling the child in some other sport which requires less embarrassment, like nighttime running in the middle of the dense cornfields).

The only hope for the coodinatively-challenged batter is to pray the pitcher is in the same category of human, and you will be gifted with a walk. This is a somewhat uncharitable hope, as it ensures the pitcher will take the ostracism in your place. However, a batter has plenty of opportunity to collect derision during the course of "running" the bases.

A word to the wise: sliding is more difficult than it would appear, and I would recommend practice before trying to implement this technique during a game.

When one of the superior members of our species is finally able to "hit" one of the "balls" (which are sure to have a certain number of stitches, which number is memorized by strange people worldwide), abject fear fills the heart of any in its path. Should the outfielder be incapable of catching the ball, derision is sure to follow. Worse, there is a chance the outfielder run the other way and be hit in the back with the baseball, then retreat to the fence to cry*, forever stunting that outfielder's usefulness to society.

*I never cry, and though I don't actually recall similar circumstances, I am not under the false impression that they were unlikely; in fact, I suspect this was the most likely scenario during my time as an outfielder. Minus the crying of course.

1 comment:

Jess said...

Wow...just when I thought I had read all of the guide I realized I missed some amazing gems...particularly this one!
"Be aware, though, that their real love of baseball stems from its utility in acting as a method of genetic cleansing. Uncoordinated saps are easily picked out and can be excluded from the gene pool by general social ostracism."

"There is a special section of hell reserved for these people, which is slightly less hot than the section reserved for the other coaches, players, and, most especially, the inventor of baseball (whatever his cursed name be). They will most likely also be served lemonade for their misdirected kindness (true kindness is shown by immediately enrolling the child in some other sport which requires less embarrassment, like nighttime running in the middle of the dense cornfields)."

Oh how I loved this!!!