Forty-seven days until pitchers and catchers … and here’s your daily splash of joy.
Why do you love baseball?
Brilliant Reader Adam: “The joy (and surprise) on your kid’s face the first time they catch a fly ball in Little League.”
Brilliant Reader Adam: “Too many reasons to write down — the shortstop casually making throws from short left that the first baseman never has to move for, the catcher throwing a seed after warmups, the way the dugout celebrates a productive out, the primal yell when you know a ball is gone, and how I can remember dates because of games — like putting on the TV after my wedding to see Darryl Strawberry walk off the Royals in 1996, or having my first date with the woman I’d marry be the Dykstra game.”
Brilliant Reader Mark: “Adrián Beltré moving the on-deck circle behind home plate to get a better view of the pitches.”
Brilliant Reader Cliff: “On Wednesday, August 15th, 2012, I landed in Seattle at 10 am and dropped my bags at the hotel just in time to walk to a 12:40 pm game at Safeco Field. Mariners vs the Tampa Bay Rays. I had no tickets, but I was able to buy Centerfield Bleacher Seats for $13. … Felix Hernandez threw a Perfect Game.”
Joe: I can’t believe it has come to this … but if I were commissioner, I would make it illegal (barring injury) to pull a pitcher who has gone at least five innings and is throwing a perfect game. I would make it illegal to pull a batter who has three home runs or is one hit away from the cycle. I would make it illegal to pull a pitcher in the middle of a no-hitter before he’s thrown, say, 120 pitches.
This is all part of my “baseball is about so much more than winning and losing” philosophy. It is also about fans building memories, lifelong memories. When you buy a ticket to a ballgame, you deserve the possibility that something unforgettable will happen, a recollection that you will cherish forever. I’ve been to thousands of regular-season baseball games over the years, and they mostly blend together, but being in Fenway Park on May 19, 2008, — the day Jon Lester threw a no-hitter a short time after going through chemotherapy for lymphoma — will stay with me always.
Teams can’t guarantee moments like that, obviously.
But they owe us the effort to try.
If you would like to send in the reason why you love baseball, we’d love to hear it. And in that spirit, we’re also collecting photos and artwork too — old snapshots, ballpark scenes, favorite scorecards, kids’ drawings, ticket stubs, whatever captures the joy of the game for you. Some people are sending song lyrics. Some are sending poems. It’s utterly wonderful. Just send along your baseball joy to [email protected].
Happy Holidays from New York
On the car ride in from LaGuardia, our driver almost hit a baby stroller. He was trying to make a tight turn because of the heavy traffic. A grandfather was standing on the corner with a baby stroller. The car came within inches of sideswiping.
The grandfather banged his fist on the car multiple times to express his displeasure.
Our driver reminded us to give him five stars when we ranked the ride.
We saw The Great Gatsby on Broadway, and it was entertaining enough — seeing Jeremy Jordan live made everyone in the family happy — but there is one astonishing thing I have to share:
The show ends, as you might expect, with Nick reciting/singing the final section of the book, perhaps the greatest close in American literature:
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning—
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
Only, it doesn’t end there … on the word “past,” a bunch of flappers rush the stage, and the orchestra plays loudly, and they perform a reprise of the song “Roaring On.”
It was jolting … and the thing I couldn’t get over is that the creator of the show thought — honestly thought — “Yeah, that book ending is fine, but I can do better.”
I have not yet gotten my fedora/old-fashioned hat. It is proving to be harder than expected. I figured New York would be bursting with fedoras. But we went to J.J.’s hats — which proudly advertises at New York’s oldest hat store — only to find that it’s “temporarily closed.” I guess this is a real opportunity for New York’s second-oldest hat store. We went into a couple of big department stores only to find they don’t sell hats.
Today’s another day. We beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
Hung out on Tuesday with pal Gary Gulman, one of the funniest people on earth, and it was as delightful as you would expect. My favorite part was talking about the ubiquity of the old Sears department store. You people old enough will remember well. And those of you who are young, well, this whole concept blew the mind of my daughter Liz — she couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that not so long ago, you could be like:
“OK, today, I have to get my car tuned up, I need to buy a new washer and dryer, back-to-school clothes for the kids, and a ratchet set with a lifetime warranty. I also need to get my annual eye exam and new car insurance. We should probably have a family holiday portrait done. I also want to get new plates, some jewelry, a snowblower, a hula hoop, some yellow paint, and new bath towels.
“Great. Let’s go to Sears.”
Happy Christmas to all. And to all a good night.
