We sit along the third base line as the late summer afternoon puts another quarter in the jukebox of a melodious sky whose lyrics rhyme with every kind of forever after kind of place. And Oscar, he minds to the third baseman, who’s being rather possessive of the mussed up bag he’s responsible for guarding.
“The chap is of a mind to take that thing you call a base home with him, it would seem . . .”
“It’s why they refer to third base as the ‘Hot corner’. Because if you’re looking for the most suspenseful of locales on a diamond? It’s as good a place to start as any,” I explain.
Seven innings down and I’ve explained a lot of the nuts and bolts of a typical game to the old boy. He digests every morsel of information before spitting out literary devices in return, so the bargain? It’s fantastic as far as I’m concerned.
“Why does the fellow on the mound behave in such a fastidious manner? Is it not considered poor etiquette to deny the batter his involvement with this baseball?”
“Involvement with this baseball . . I don’t think Ted Williams could have said it any better than that, my man. Well see, it’s like this. The pitcher is attempting to talk that baseball into doing his bidding. But the batter, he is well aware of the liberties he might be able to take with the very same ball. So the pitcher holds on, as if holding to a lover he fears might quit him,”
“I see. So . . chess with a sidearm?”
“Oh God, Oscar. I can’t imagine Vin Scully could paint a baseball portrait any better!” I say.
“Here, here!” He replies as we clink our plastic cups full of a brand new round of merry.
“And there are how many stanzas to this parade again? . . Nine?” He asks,
“Officially, yes. But unofficially, the game could last forever. There is no clock, there is no time limit. I’m going to lend you a book . .it’s called The Iowa Baseball Confederacy. The author, W.P. Kinsella . . he will educate you as to why the game is like no other game ever invented. Because if both teams are tied after nine innings have been played . . they keep on playing until someone breaks the seal. Home team always batting last . . .”
“Ah, it’s very much like when I penned The Importance of Being Earnest. There were indeed moments that stretched into days and weeks and yes, months . . where I believed the very core of the sun would meet its end before I might conclude! And as it were, I produced several books out of that one . . before business was attended to and the pages were snipped into a more agreeable fashion, as it were . .” Oscar says.
“Because the words are like a baseball game, huh? They have no real end to them. The precarious little buggers,” I say.
“So, assuming this contest does not outlast the sun? Might you have a place for me to settle in, where I may commence with a postlude on the day’s events? It is my solemn wish to share these moments with strangers whose divinity can be found at the bottom of a well apportioned glass!”
“There is a place, across the bridge in fact. Full of firemen whose ancestry goes back to when these streets were navigated by horse drawn carriages. Romantic like that,” I smile.
“Are they the sort to appreciate a good story?” Oscar asks.
“As long as the tap is singing and the company understands the fine art of colorful language . . yes. But I must warn you, they are rascals, the whole lot of them,” I warn him good naturedly.
“I do love a good rascal,”
We toast as the inning ends on a double play, cut clean from the geometrical nursery rhyme of Tinkers to Evers to Chance. And the sun splashes down in one final vertical thrust before bidding adieu.
The visitor’s half of the ninth inning begins with the home team having things well in hand, by a 6-2 score. But with one man out, a rally gets to stepping and the next thing we know it’s 6-4 with two men out, but the bases loaded. And now the buzz of the crowd folds into a single, collective hush as their best hitter steps to the plate with all manner of bad intentions as far as that baseball is concerned.
And now the windup . . and now the pitch . . .
Beautiful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you
LikeLiked by 1 person
Do you ever wonder if those who romanticize and was poetic about baseball overdo it?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m watching Baseball by Ken Burns and there are moments where I think certain of the voices who contribute try, too hard. The game doesn’t need for you to try so hard. It’s like an announcer who thinks they have to sell the game people already tuned in to watch.
LikeLiked by 2 people
“CRACK. Will it stay fair or start that agonizing drift toward the mother of all hellish places just left of the third baseline. Well, I guess we won’t know, Pilgrim. This was an excellent marriage of classic literary genius with contemporary literary genius. Now the only constant in the genius category happens to be you. Well done and VERY entertaining. Maybe you out to take a number of different people to the ballgame. You can put the whole thing on your expense account and we would all love it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hey! Boss you just gave me an excellent idea.
Glad you liked my afternoon out at the ballpark with Oscar. And you’re right . . why limit myself to that one writer?
Muchas gracias as per.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You can invite actors, lawyers, generals, of anyone you want.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The sky’s the limit!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yup.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re a genius
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are the one with the idea. So who is the genius?
LikeLiked by 1 person
We’re in cahoots! 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love that word, cahoots. Reminds me of the Long Branch saloon, cheroots and rye whiskey.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love it, Sheriff
LikeLiked by 1 person
😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very clever and entertaining, as always. Don’t be taking me to the ballgame, though. There would be no witty banter from my corner.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Come on Eilene, oh come on Eilene . . .
I had to get all eighties music on ya there. Because you would be learning me all about your detective work. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Eek! Can’t stand that song.
LikeLiked by 1 person
LOL! Sorry . . .
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha ha That was great fun! Who said baseball is a metaphor for life? And who’s on first?!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s funny you should mention that Pam, because I watched Who’s on First this weekend. The skit is six minutes long, depending on which one you watch. And it’s one of the greatest comedy routines of all time, in my humble opinion.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is hilarious when it’s done well. Brilliant writing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It really is. So very brilliant.
LikeLiked by 1 person
B,
Mark said: Beautiful
John: said Genius
Eilene said: Clever and entertaining
Pam said: Great fun!
Frank… well, we’ll see what he says, won’t we?
As for me? I say all of the above and then some. You take the idea of a story – even if it didn’t exist at 4:00 pm and swirl your magical “pen” around the page.
This wonderful post is enough to make the most diehard baseball hater want to go to a game with you.
I can’t say anything in a manner befitting your prose except to say, I love this, B. This is what you do so well.
Thank you,
Q
LikeLiked by 1 person
Q
You done filled in those gaps quite well, now didn’t you?
No, I didn’t imagine I was writing bupkis today. I was meh about the prospects, because that’s how I felt about it. Meh. And then something just sparked. Happens.
I don’t trust a baseball hater. It’s one thing if you don’t love it, or if it’s not quite your cup of tea. But to hate the game? Hmmm, that just doesn’t make sense.
You’re lovely, and thank you for the sweetness. Very, very much appreciated as you well know. 😉
No, thank YOU.
B
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, I tried to.
I hear you. I heard you. And then I come back from gallivanting and find this. When you spark, something happens, all right.
I think your love of the game is contagious. I always enjoy going to a game way more than watching on on TV. On TV, I’m more meh? What’s the point. Ironically, I love baseball movies, you don’t. Go figure.
You know I can’t help but give you what I can. I think I very well do know. 😉
MWAH!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You done did.
Maybe it’s Ken Burns fault in this instance. Or at least some of it is, because I swear he has me watching a day long series . . . yet again.
Isn’t that funny? I mean, I do have a few that I love, but for the most part I think the baseball movies are so phony looking. The dudes don’t even know how to throw the ball over hand in most of em. But Costner, he looked the part.
You very well do, you do.
MUAH!!
LikeLike
Beautifully done – besides, you are the only one who could ever link Oscar Wilde and baseball! …. and the pitch …. a line shot over the second basemen’s head … one run scores … O’Neill cleanly fields the ball … a play at the plate … Got ’em … Yankees win, Yankees win, Daaaaaaaa Yankeees win.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s why I chose him, because it was like . . who would be an unlikely pardnah at the ballpark? But that’s the game. It can be taught easily enough and learned completely and loved, forever.
Woot! You got my number Cincy. You just do.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I knew you would like my ending.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are correct sir . . . 😉
LikeLike
So well done
-!
And side note – read that comment with the come on Eileen song and dude – now it is in my head big time –
It has a catchy part to it
– have a great day
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yeah, Prior . . . it’s the rabbit hole when you hear that tune, isn’t it?
LikeLiked by 1 person
🐇
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hahaha!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Think I’d have as many questions as wee Oscar, but you sound like the ideal guy to have alongside to explain. Wait till I take you to Celtic game in Glasgow…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh baby! It’s a deal. Thanks my man.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, I like this! It’s very very clever. Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Resa! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Brilliant! I’d happily toast with Oscar any day, even at a baseball game. 😈
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Monika. I figured he would be a lot of fun to bring along to a game.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nothing like going to a game with a ‘crisp’ observer.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Who loves his drink . . .
LikeLiked by 1 person
And acserbic life observations.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That word goes . . . in the file!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
👍🏻 If memory serves me, Oscar Wilde is one of its definitions in the dictionary.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hahaha! Yes indeed. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was a truly skillful & some way lyrical writing;) with a pinch of humor
Ah, Oscar… So he is your ball friend now? :))
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Merci and Muchas gracias!
Oscar can definitely be my pal for a day at the ball game.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Witty, fun, inventive; great writing!
I confess, though, I was waiting for a snarky one-liner from Oscar…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you RW! Yes, I didn’t know WHERE to go with a post, and then I came upon a piece about Oscar Wilde and there it was . . the idea.
Yeah, I didn’t really flesh it out as much as I might have. But hey, maybe there will be another game?
LikeLike
LikeLike