I’m sorry, baseball: A formal apology

If there’s one thing I (re-)learned about myself this week, it’s that I love sports. And not just watching games. I’ve been reading, voraciously, about proposed trades and acquisitions. Who’s going to fit in with which defensive schemes? Who may be the best match for x coaching staff or y quarterback? And where is Carlos Beltran going to end up?

Hold the phone. Carlos Beltran? He’s a baseball player. I’ve found myself invested in where the MLB’s most eligible batter ends up? It’s as if I have wandered into some alternate universe where football doesn’t exist and baseball interests me. I’m just kidding. Football will never not exist to me… but during the locked out months of the NFL, I decided to give baseball a chance.

And maybe, just maybe, it started off as a way to endear myself to a guy. Oh, don’t judge me. Peter O’Toole/Orlando Bloom and Brian Cox/Brendan Gleeson went to war over Diane Kruger in the movie Troy. I just decided to pay attention to a sport I’d repeatedly derided and criticized the past eighteen years. And it was less as a way to endear myself and more a response to his sincere love and passion for the sport. Totally infectious.

Don’t get me wrong. There are still elements of the ridiculous to poke fun at: managers (coaches) dressing up in baseball uniforms, hundreds of games each season that could very well last 3.5+ hours and absolutely no accountability for the officiating. The latter two elements are of particular interest to me after a nineteen inning doozie between the Pittsburgh Pirates and Atlanta Braves that ended at the hands of umpire Jerry Meals. I’m still learning my baseball terminology, but I think the technical term for his game-determining call of “safe” at home for Atlanta’s Julio Lugo, even before the runner touched the plate – and despite catcher Mike McKenry’s obvious tag four feet away from the plate – is… bullshit.

This is where the football/basketball/tennis fan in me cries out for replay capability. If ESPN can show me whether any pitch is inside the strike zone, we can’t take a minute for the ump to review his own call, especially after two teams have duked it out for nearly seven hours? I guess there’s the idea that it would slow the game. Which is itself an interesting argument, as baseball often feels like the slowest game on the planet (not named golf).

I digress. The point of this entry is not for me to complain. Even though I really do hate the Atlanta Braves, which bested the Pittsburgh Pirates in the NLCS two seasons in a row nearly 20 years ago (aka the last time the Pirates could boast a winning record and I fancied myself a baseball fan). It’s only fitting that the resurgent Pirates, presently in the hunt for first in the NL Central, would face such a frustrating defeat at the hands of the (ugh) Braves. But that’s enough about that.

What I’m trying to explain, ever so gracefully, is this: even after that ridiculous call at 1:50 in the morning and the systematic flaws it exposed, I’m still on board with baseball. It doesn’t hurt that I chose to follow two teams that are having successful seasons and feature fun-to-root-for rosters, of course, but I’ve learned to embrace the game itself. And despite knowing so little about the nuances and business of the sport, I’m enjoying it! I’m currently in no position to offer baseball-related flirting advice (I know. I’m good for precisely nothing.), but I do recommend giving baseball a chance. Try watching a game and picking a team to root for. You may be amazed by how quickly you can become invested.

Upon opening my mind, I have found even scoreless innings can be riveting: the race to first base after a ground ball, stolen base attempts, diving catches, the will-it-won’t-it clear the fence fly balls/near-home runs… Not bad, baseball. Not too bad at all.