Baseball '09, Volume Whatever: Three Days of the Horsehide, Part One
The season continues, another live game racked up in Oakland, TV and radio filling in the gaps in the jigsaw puzzle. The borders have been established; you know how the teams have begun, you know how'll they'll finish--not in the World Series, I can tell you that--and all that remains is to fill in the middle.
Last week was a media historian's delight, as in the span (Denard Span of the Twins"?) of three days and three games, June 8th through the 10th, I retraced the evolution of baseball as spectator sport, in reverse order, with TV on Monday, radio on Tuesday, and a live game on Wednesday.
So I'm going to randomly write about three games in a row, hoping this framework makes it all hang together brilliantly.
JUNE 8TH: Minnesota versus Oakland. Cable TV
Last summer was the first major league game Vaughn and I attended together, a massacre in Oakland. Losing a game is one thing, but your team losing to your best friend's team is just not right, especially when it was 13-3 or something like that, when your team didn't even show up. You can forgive anything except your friend's team winning, which can make for some awkward conversations.
Last Monday night, I decided to try it again.
Vaughn and I met at his apartment to watch the opener of the Oakland--Minnesota series, Vaughn mixing up Sombreros, which I had never heard of before, but which are White Russians without Vodka, which seemed very strange to me in theory, kind of like baseball without bats. Which, to be fair, has been my impression of how the Giants have played far too often over the last couple of years, so that shows what I know.
The Giants are and have always been my number one team. The black and orange of their jerseys and the posters I had as a child seemed vibrant as music. But Oakland, even if I sometimes overlook them, there is something musical about their colors as well. Their green and gold, so distinctive, seem like spring, bright and brilliant. It sometimes reminds me of the land of Oz--more on that later, just remember that I thought of that metaphor on Monday.
More than a week after the telecast, the thing I remember the most was pitcher Josh Outman's gold socks worn high. He pitched well, marred only by a wild fourth inning in which he gave up three runs.
The fate of baseball games so often hinge on the response to a big inning by one team. Minnesota's young pitcher had pitched strong ball for the first three innings, and then his team built him a solid lead. Maybe he was a little rusty after the extended inning, after sitting on the bench for a while, but he got out rhythm, walking Matt Holliday, Jason Giambi, and then hitting Aaron Cunningham in the head with a wild pitch--Cunningham was fine, though would leave the next inning. Jack Hannahan then cleared the bases with a double to center field.
The time to respond then fell to Josh Outman. The top of the fifth was frightening to behold, as the Twins' All-American boy, catcher Joe Mauer, and their All-Canadian boy, Justin Morneau, were batting second and third. Joe Mauer has one of the sweetest swings I have ever seen, and is batting well over .400, looking to pose perhaps a genuine threat to the .400 threshold for the whole season. And Justin Morneau is always dangerous. Outman lived up to his name, though, and put them down in order. Jack Cust homered in the bottom of the fifth, and that was pretty much the ball game.
That's part of the psychological complexity of baseball; the game hinged on how each team responded to its own success. The Twins gave the momentum right back; Oakland held on to it once they had it.
Nuances of momentum, clutch hits, double plays that succeed or fail, these are among the many novelesque qualities of the game.
Coming next, Tuesday, the Giants on the radio!
Last week was a media historian's delight, as in the span (Denard Span of the Twins"?) of three days and three games, June 8th through the 10th, I retraced the evolution of baseball as spectator sport, in reverse order, with TV on Monday, radio on Tuesday, and a live game on Wednesday.
So I'm going to randomly write about three games in a row, hoping this framework makes it all hang together brilliantly.
JUNE 8TH: Minnesota versus Oakland. Cable TV
Last summer was the first major league game Vaughn and I attended together, a massacre in Oakland. Losing a game is one thing, but your team losing to your best friend's team is just not right, especially when it was 13-3 or something like that, when your team didn't even show up. You can forgive anything except your friend's team winning, which can make for some awkward conversations.
Last Monday night, I decided to try it again.
Vaughn and I met at his apartment to watch the opener of the Oakland--Minnesota series, Vaughn mixing up Sombreros, which I had never heard of before, but which are White Russians without Vodka, which seemed very strange to me in theory, kind of like baseball without bats. Which, to be fair, has been my impression of how the Giants have played far too often over the last couple of years, so that shows what I know.
The Giants are and have always been my number one team. The black and orange of their jerseys and the posters I had as a child seemed vibrant as music. But Oakland, even if I sometimes overlook them, there is something musical about their colors as well. Their green and gold, so distinctive, seem like spring, bright and brilliant. It sometimes reminds me of the land of Oz--more on that later, just remember that I thought of that metaphor on Monday.
More than a week after the telecast, the thing I remember the most was pitcher Josh Outman's gold socks worn high. He pitched well, marred only by a wild fourth inning in which he gave up three runs.
The fate of baseball games so often hinge on the response to a big inning by one team. Minnesota's young pitcher had pitched strong ball for the first three innings, and then his team built him a solid lead. Maybe he was a little rusty after the extended inning, after sitting on the bench for a while, but he got out rhythm, walking Matt Holliday, Jason Giambi, and then hitting Aaron Cunningham in the head with a wild pitch--Cunningham was fine, though would leave the next inning. Jack Hannahan then cleared the bases with a double to center field.
The time to respond then fell to Josh Outman. The top of the fifth was frightening to behold, as the Twins' All-American boy, catcher Joe Mauer, and their All-Canadian boy, Justin Morneau, were batting second and third. Joe Mauer has one of the sweetest swings I have ever seen, and is batting well over .400, looking to pose perhaps a genuine threat to the .400 threshold for the whole season. And Justin Morneau is always dangerous. Outman lived up to his name, though, and put them down in order. Jack Cust homered in the bottom of the fifth, and that was pretty much the ball game.
That's part of the psychological complexity of baseball; the game hinged on how each team responded to its own success. The Twins gave the momentum right back; Oakland held on to it once they had it.
Nuances of momentum, clutch hits, double plays that succeed or fail, these are among the many novelesque qualities of the game.
Coming next, Tuesday, the Giants on the radio!
posted by Devin at 9:22 PM
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