Ballpark Estimate

“So, this is baseball.”

               Bill was thinking that perhaps it was a mistake to persuade his new girlfriend to come to the Milwaukee Brewers baseball game that evening. It appeared that she had dug in her heels about the sport and was committed to not having a good time.

               “Yes, Ellen, this is baseball. Isn’t the field beautiful?”

               “I guess. That grass is mowed with a design in it.”

               That was typical Ellen. She would make observations without offering her opinions about whether she approved or disapproved.

               “You know, Bill, it’s just like a park, except it is reserved for 18 grown men.”

               “I guess that’s true, but there are thousands of people here to enjoy watching them play.”

               “Hmm.”

               Bill and Ellen seemed to be in love, but it was hard to tell with Ellen. She wasn’t very romantic, but in the right situation she was very passionate. She was never unkind to Bill, but she didn’t often act with kindness either. She was a different sort of person.

               Her lack of interest in baseball was the only thing about her that bothered Bill. She said she’d seen a few minutes of a game on television but had never attended one or played baseball or softball. She never said she didn’t like baseball. She didn’t have an opinion about it. She just wasn’t interested.

               Bill, on the other hand, lived and breathed baseball from the time he was eight years old. Now, in his early twenties, going to the ballpark was one of his favorite activities.

               “Okay, Ellen, I don’t mean to patronize you, but the guys standing out on the field are on defense. The guys coming up to that five-sided white thing on the ground up there… they are the offense. The object of the offense is to hit the ball either over the fence, which is called a ‘home run’ or to someplace on the field where the defense can’t catch it.”

               “Thanks. Let me watch for a bit and I’m sure I’ll catch on.”

               Bill explained balls and strikes and the three bases and double plays. He did not bring up the infield fly rule, in which a pop fly ball to the infield can be called before it is caught when one or more runners are on base. The rule prevents an infielder from intentionally dropping the ball in order to get a double or triple play. Ellen wouldn’t need to know that at the moment.

               Ellen sat and watched intently. She stirred a little when the ball was hit, or when one of the defenders caught a high fly ball. Bill thought that Ellen’s brain was wired a little differently than most people’s, and it was interesting to watch as she compiled the data from the on-going game.

               After three innings she had a few observations to make. “Bill, it seems like the players spend about as much time warming up each inning as they spend playing. Why is that?”

               “First, I have to say that you are not wrong. Second, I think part of the reason is that the stress to the muscles that throwing a ball 100 miles per hour causes can only be tolerated if the muscles are stretched out. When the pitchers are waiting for their turn to throw the ball again their muscles contract again. Also, radio and TV broadcasters need time to run commercials.”

               “Thank you. You said you have played a lot of baseball games?”

               “Yes, I have.”

               “I’m wondering how it feels to be a batter, knowing that the pitcher is going to try to trick you, or overpower you, or maybe even hit you.”

               Bill hadn’t ever really thought of batting in that way, but once again, she wasn’t wrong about the battle between pitcher and batter.

               “Mostly, when I go up to bat, I’m very nervous. I want to get a hit, or even a home run. But I do NOT want to strike out. Every time the pitcher throws it, I have a tiny bit of time to decide if I should swing or not. It’s hard. The best batters are successful only 30% of the time.”

               “But you say it is fun.”

               “Yes! To get a hit and go to first base is really exciting.”

               Ellen had an epiphany. “So that is where the term ‘getting to first base’ comes from.”

               The romantic metaphor pleased her.

               “Have you ever been a pitcher?”

               “Yes. Many times.”

               “Tell me about how that feels.”

               “The whole team watches the pitcher and wants him to keep the batter from hitting the ball. They also don’t want the pitcher to walk the batter. And they really don’t want the batter to get a home run. So, they do what is called ‘chatter,’ where they say encouraging things to the pitcher.”

               “Does that help?”

               “Not at all. But it keeps them involved. Sometimes a game is mostly just the pitcher throwing the ball to the catcher over and over again with a batter hitting the ball now and then. Some of the people on defense might play a whole game and never touch the ball.”

               “Huh!”

               “But every time the ball is pitched they have to be ready.”

               “I bet the fielders get exhausted from having to stay alert for every pitch.”

               “I guess so.”

               From their seats in the outfield, they could see the entire field well, which Bill thought would be good for her baseball education. Bill had to explain what was going on when a relief pitcher came in. She was really catching on to the game, and by the seventh inning she was practically doing play-by-play.

               “Okay, so there are two men on base and one out. The count on the batter is two and two. The batter has a batting average over 300 so the pitcher needs to be cautious.”

               Then, the next pitch was walloped into left-center field, which is where Bill and Ellen were sitting. Bill followed the arc of the ball from the bat up into the sky and down into… Ellen’s right hand. The crowd erupted from the homerun and the fantastic bare-handed catch.

               “That hurt.”

               “Wow! Great catch, Ellen! All the people are cheering for you. Look on the big screen up there.”

               Sure enough, a slow-motion replay appeared of Ellen casually reaching out and catching the homerun ball.

               Later, after the game ended (the Brewers won) Bill and Ellen lingered for a while looking at the field where the game had been.

               “You know, Bill, I do like baseball after all. It’s interesting. Each team has nine players at a time. They count on each other, but it seems like they are each very alone. The pitcher needs to throw the ball in a certain way at a certain speed. The batter needs to totally focus on the pitch and make a split-second decision to swing or not. The fielders never know if the ball will come to them or not, and if it does, they have to be prepared to catch it and throw it to the right teammate. In a way it’s like every player is playing his own game within the bigger game the two teams are playing.”

               Bill stopped and turned towards Ellen. “That is the most insightful analysis of baseball I’ve ever heard.”

               “Oh. Well, thank you. In a way it’s like lovemaking. Each person is focused on what they are doing, but they are also working to make the team a success.”

               Bill looked at her, smiled, and slowly shook his head. “I think it’s time we go back to my place so we can discuss your ideas further.”

               Ellen winked.