Baseball is essentially a set of vignettes, of scenes. Each one is strikingly similar to the last and yet completely different than anything that has come before. It’s a game of endless interpretation and of many different influences.
Baseball is a game of endless possibilities, a game of moments within moments, of potential. Every situation, every pitch, every decision is merely a reproduction of countless hours of training and tradition, and yet each inevitably comes up against the cruel hands of fate and fortune. The game changes in increments, through starts and stops, or it can change all at once.
It can be a game of high drama with towering homeruns and 100mph fastballs, but the true beauty of the game lies in the subtle changes that take place with each pitch. An 0-0 count is eminently different than an 0-1 count which is verifiably different than a 1-1 count, and so forth. Each situation is unique and calls for a series of decisions to be made, a series of variables must be assessed and accounted for. With each pitch, the situation shifts in advantage and strategy.
With the game one out in the bottom of the 14th inning, the Blue Jays’ Rajai Davis singles into the outfield. One on. Pitcher moves into the stretch.
Davis, a base stealer, suddenly inserts himself into the game. First pitch ball. But Davis now has the attention of the pitcher. His lead grows. First throw over. Back easily. Second, closer. Third pick-off attempt a diving Davis reaches in just ahead of the tag and is called safe.
Pitcher looks over again. The crowd begins booing. Enough already.
The pitcher’s slider down and away no longer available to him – too risky, it may hit the dirt and get by the catcher, the second pitch is a fastball strike. John Mcdonald barely takes his bat off his shoulder. He’s a fastball hitter but right now, he’s waiting for Davis to steal second. He’ll take as many pitches as he can.
Davis takes his lead. The pitcher looks over, grips the ball...and off he goes. Sprinting, eyes focused on the base, his goal.
Throw’s late. Davis takes second easily.
He takes his lead off second, stepping ever closer to third.
The pitcher eyes him suspiciously. ‘Surely he won’t try and take third?’
The 2-1 pitch is another fastball. Runner starts but stops. A bluff.
Another strike. The count stands at 2-2.
Davis is inching ever closer, starting, stopping. Throw over and again he just sneaks back onto the base with barely a fingernail to spare. Dusting himself he begins to take his lead again. Pitcher sets, looks back, and winds up. Half way through his wind up Davis is off again. He breaks early, the pitcher with barely a chance to catch him out of the corner of his eye, the streaking player making towards third.
The pitch is a breaking ball high and wide, slightly into the right-handed Mcdonald and the catcher has trouble with the ball. No throw. Sliding head first, Davis now has third base with less than 2 outs. There have been five pitches between his single and him now standing on third, 90-feet from winning the game.
Five pitches. Each one unique, each one responding to the changing situation on the field.
The infield moves in. The outfield too.
Here’s the 3-2 pitch...
...a high fly ball to left-centre.
Sac fly. Game over.
Baseball is a game of opportunities, of chances taken and chances squandered. It is a game in which, at any moment, everything can change. Rarely is a game a sure thing, rarely out of reach. It is a game where you can score six runs with two outs and not a single hit. It happens, often enough not to be that rare!
Whether it is a base runner who suddenly forces the pitcher to think about two things as opposed to one, or the double play late in a close game, at any moment, anything is possible.
Four pitches...so little can happen and yet so much can change.
The Philadelphia Phillies are down five to four going into the seventh inning. Bases empty and no outs.
First pitch is hammered into left-centre for a stand-up double. The pitcher shakes his head, look downcast as he attempts to find the grip of a new ball. He steps up on the mound, kicks the rubber with his toe, and nods to the catcher behind the plate. Second pitch is lined into right field, the runner scores from second. RBI single.
The pitcher, still shaking his head, is now pitching from the stretch and, leaning in, nods. As he begins his wind up the batter squares around to bunt. Third pitch is a perfect sacrifice bunt. Pitcher looks to second but throw to first for the sure out. Three pitches so far this inning and the lead is lost.
Fourth batter of the inning, one out and a runner on second. The pitcher checks on the runner at second – twice – and here’s the pitch...
A high fly ball into deep right-centre between the outfielders and drops in for double. Runner scores easily from second. Fourth pitch an RBI double.
Four pitches, three hits, two runs, one out and a lead lost. All in the span of two minutes.
Baseball is a game of variables. Weather. Altitude. Park dimensions. Ground crews. Grumpy umpires.
There are as many variables as one could care to reasonably count off in an hour or two, and each one could be subjected to statistical analysis and carefully studied for advantages and disadvantages. There is a certain eloquence to the objectivity of a baseball statistic, of the story told about a game, a series, or a season. And yet, these statistics cannot quite capture the minutiae of the game, the little subjective decisions made on the field with every pitch, every glance, every ball hit that make ultimately decide the games themselves.
Unlike many if not all other sports, baseball is a game not only decided by the players. Coaches can also play a pivotal role in the actual unfolding of a play.
Ball hit hard to left field. The runner on first stops, follows the ball briefly with his eyes, his neck gently arching to the right, just a moment’s hesitation and off he goes. That hesitation could be the difference on a close play...The ball lands a foot or so shy on the wall and bounces for a double, at least. The lead runner is pushing hard for third and the San Francisco third base coach has a decision to make; does he stop the runner or let him try for home? The left fielder, his back to the play is picking up the ball as the runner touches the base, and he keeps going. The coach is waving him through, arms flailing in frantic circles urging him to hurry.
The Giants third base coach has made a gamble. He’s going to force the Diamondbacks to make two perfect throws, a great relay and a catcher stopping a man barrelling down towards him from touching home plate before he can tag him with the ball. He’s going to force three players to be perfect. He’s going to force Arizona to be perfect.
The throw from left field misses the cut-off man and is wide to the catcher at home. Here’s the slide, the tag, but it’s too late. The run scores easily.
Baseball is a game of possibilities, of ups and downs. It is a game of climaxes and anti-climaxes. It is a game in which anything is possible until it’s not. All can be gained with the simple swing of the bat and all can be snatched away just as easily.
It’s four-two going into the bottom of the ninth for the visiting Oakland Athletics in south-side Chicago. With one out already, a pinch hitter is sent in. He lays down a perfect bunt pushed just past the pitcher’s mound on the first base side of the diamond.
One on.
Next up Ramirez, and after a couple of sliders low and away, he smacks a sharp line drive into centre for a base hit.
Two on.
Winning run coming to the plate. The crowd is humming.
Adam Dunn steps in to the batter’s box and proceeds to let a fastball straight down the middle of the plate slide right past him. Pitch number two is a curveball away and Dunn waves at it in a half-hearted homage to ‘protecting the plate’. 0 and 2. Two balls way outside and Dunn lets them go. The crowd is beginning to get to its feet. They can feel the comeback, they can taste the victory. Here’s the pitch and it’s a breaking ball down and Dunn lays off. A full count. 3-2. And the tension is palpable. The pitch...a fastball fouled back to the screen. The pitcher looks over, checks the runners and delivers the pitch...a fastball up at the chest. A giant swing. A giant miss.
Two out.
Two on.
Konerko is at the plate. The pitcher delivers and there’s a hit, into the gap and lead runner is being waved home run scores and suddenly the game is 4-3 with runners on the corners. The crowd is roaring now. The stadium shakes with expectation.
Alex Rios, the under-performing centre fielder is up. He steps in, adjusts his helmet, his two gloves, and his jock – in that order, every time –takes two practice swings and is ready to go. And the pitch...strike one. A fastball on the inside corner. The crowd is shaking. “A hit to tie” they chant. The next pitch is a ball down and in. 1-1.
The pitcher looks over at first, checks the runner, over to third, and up he comes, sets, and delivers. The cheers are almost deafening.
And the swing is a mighty one. Up the ball sails and back goes the catcher. A foul ball out to end the game. To end the cheering. To end the anticipation. Hope one moment so alive, the next gone, annihilated in a foul ball out.
And with life...anything is possible until it’s not.
