As the title of today's post implies, baseball's language takes many forms -- and it definitely includes those pats on the butt. Since baseball is physical its no surprise that its language is, too. We see this language happen live on our screen in every game. And of course, we learn the language of baseball from our trusty baseball announcers. Let's listen in and see what they say. There's almost always a physical angle to it.
When a player reaches down to scoop up a low ball -- and his hand just misses it, coming up empty -- the announcer will often say, "He couldn't get a handle on it." I love that. As if the ball is a little suitcase with a handy feature on top -- a very physical image.
"Oh! What a tough error!" This is what announcers say when the ball is very hard to catch and the fielder understandably misses it -- yet it gets called an error by the baseball gods. The error is tough in the same way it's tough when a child gets pushed over by a bully. A good kid like him didn't deserve that kind of treatment. And it's also about the harshness of the call. To judge this very-hard-to-catch ball as something that should definitely have been caught is the definition of being tough. It's heartless. And with all the struggle this implies, it's physical. Just ask the player who feels like he was punched in the gut by the call.
And let's get down to it. What's with all those pats on the butt? They're obviously a big part of baseball's language because you see them in every game. I'd be curious to learn how readers view this behavior. What do you think is being passed from one player to another by a pat on the butt? And why choose the butt to pat? Arms aren't good enough? I ask these things, but for me there's no mystery to it. A pat on the butt inevitably harkens back to childhood. It's what you do with a toddler or pre-toddler: you pat him on the butt as a sign of approval and support. That's exactly how I see baseball's pats. And yes, there is an infantile aspect to the behavior.
Soft hands is a baseball phrase I love. It's what they say about a player who can catch anything they throw at him: he's got soft hands. It's as if the ball falls easily into the comfortable folds of his sainted palms and blessed fingers. You gotta have soft hands to be a Gold Glover.
Sometimes a pitcher is having a great day and hitting all his "targets", i.e., the mitt the catcher holds up. At those times the announcers say the pitcher is really commanding his sinking fastball (or slider or whatever). I like the use of the word command here. It's a macho, king-of-the-mountain word as if the balls are his minions and he has directed them to follow his every manly order. He is the lord of all things; he has command.
And how about the way the catcher frames the ball for the home base umpire by turning into a statue once he catches it? "See, Mr. Umpire -- it was a strike! Really!" Framing is such a good term for this. The catcher is literally snatching a moment in time and freezing it into a 3D photo. He physically frames a version of reality (his version) for the ump by holding his position.
But of course, in many instances the catcher is trying to deceive the umpire -- because deception is built into baseball. Stay tuned. Baseball's language of deception is coming soon . . . and off in the distance, I can dimly see the post after that . . . why, yes I can see it now . . it's . . . the language of baseball voodoo! All this coming soon to a blog near you! Be still, your heart.
When a player reaches down to scoop up a low ball -- and his hand just misses it, coming up empty -- the announcer will often say, "He couldn't get a handle on it." I love that. As if the ball is a little suitcase with a handy feature on top -- a very physical image.
"Oh! What a tough error!" This is what announcers say when the ball is very hard to catch and the fielder understandably misses it -- yet it gets called an error by the baseball gods. The error is tough in the same way it's tough when a child gets pushed over by a bully. A good kid like him didn't deserve that kind of treatment. And it's also about the harshness of the call. To judge this very-hard-to-catch ball as something that should definitely have been caught is the definition of being tough. It's heartless. And with all the struggle this implies, it's physical. Just ask the player who feels like he was punched in the gut by the call.
And let's get down to it. What's with all those pats on the butt? They're obviously a big part of baseball's language because you see them in every game. I'd be curious to learn how readers view this behavior. What do you think is being passed from one player to another by a pat on the butt? And why choose the butt to pat? Arms aren't good enough? I ask these things, but for me there's no mystery to it. A pat on the butt inevitably harkens back to childhood. It's what you do with a toddler or pre-toddler: you pat him on the butt as a sign of approval and support. That's exactly how I see baseball's pats. And yes, there is an infantile aspect to the behavior.
Soft hands is a baseball phrase I love. It's what they say about a player who can catch anything they throw at him: he's got soft hands. It's as if the ball falls easily into the comfortable folds of his sainted palms and blessed fingers. You gotta have soft hands to be a Gold Glover.
Sometimes a pitcher is having a great day and hitting all his "targets", i.e., the mitt the catcher holds up. At those times the announcers say the pitcher is really commanding his sinking fastball (or slider or whatever). I like the use of the word command here. It's a macho, king-of-the-mountain word as if the balls are his minions and he has directed them to follow his every manly order. He is the lord of all things; he has command.
And how about the way the catcher frames the ball for the home base umpire by turning into a statue once he catches it? "See, Mr. Umpire -- it was a strike! Really!" Framing is such a good term for this. The catcher is literally snatching a moment in time and freezing it into a 3D photo. He physically frames a version of reality (his version) for the ump by holding his position.
But of course, in many instances the catcher is trying to deceive the umpire -- because deception is built into baseball. Stay tuned. Baseball's language of deception is coming soon . . . and off in the distance, I can dimly see the post after that . . . why, yes I can see it now . . it's . . . the language of baseball voodoo! All this coming soon to a blog near you! Be still, your heart.
