Baseball pops up again

The long, cold winter is over and baseball is here. I can't tell you how thrilling this is for me. I adore baseball. When baseball is in season, I don't have to have a life -- which is such a relief. I can just sit in front of the TV and watch games. What a benefit!

Even though the season is young, I've already heard odd things from the sportscasters. Now you get to hear about them too.

Let's start with things that confused me.

I asked this last year and got no answer. I'm still waiting, so here it is again: What the hell is a "seeing-eye single"? I heard it again this year and I have no clue what it means.

Keith Hernandez said something that went right over my head. He said, "But if you get a hammy or a calf injury, that's trouble up river city". River city?

Another one that confused me, at least at first, was that after a guy hit a line drive into left field, Keith (why is it always Keith?) said "You could hang laundry on that long drive. Look at that clothesline!" I thought about this and was initially stumped. In the end, I decided that he was talking about the height of the drive. It was literally at clothesline level. You wouldn't think something like that would become a thing.

And finally (in the "I didn't understand it" category), I've been stumped by something that I never heard before. The announcers keep talking about who won a platinum glove last year. Platinum? I seem to have missed a memo.

Here's a fun, odd thing: I think it was Gary Cohen (a Mets announcer) who told a story that involves the way New Yorkers speak. He said a long time ago, a Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher named Hoyt was hit by a ball. In response, the fans yelled "Hoyt's hurt!" But in typical New York accents, it came out "Hurts hoyt".

UPDATE: It occurs to me that this might not be clear to those outside NY. In the old days, New Yorkers said "erl" for "oil". And yes, they said "oil" for "earl". They were very consistent about their mispronunciations. So Hoyt's hurt came out Hurt's hoyt. See? This is about men my father's age (he's dead now; we're talking long ago). They spoke in a weird neighborhood way. I was amused when they would try to say "iodine". It came out "ee-oh-deen". As I say, they were consistent. I wonder how all that began. End of Update.

Baseball's back and I'm lovin' it. Hopefully you've got something in your life that provides this much fun for you. Okay, I'm gonna go watch another game. Later.

Language (and customs) of baseball

I often write longish posts about the language used by baseball broadcasters. I haven't done much of that this year. (You can use the search box above-left to find a bunch of them. Just pump in "language of baseball".) But I do want to report one thing I heard.

I'm not sure who said it. I didn't note the team name or the broadcaster's name. In fact, I didn't write it down at all. But I remember. It was an old guy who said it, one of the die-hards from another era who's still hanging on as a baseball broadcaster. I love those old guys because they say things that are truly bizarre.

A pitcher threw a really good pitch, but the batter got all of it. He blasted an incredibly fast line-drive over first base. It was way high in the air but the first baseman made a superb, almost superhuman jump and caught the ball. Watching what the pitcher did next, the announcer said:

"That's the kind of play where a pitcher's just gotta go over to his first baseman and pat him on the rear."

And that's why I love the old announcers: they're weird.

As the baseball turns

The soap opera of 2013 baseball is coming to a close. So it must be time for another "language of baseball" post. Here you go.

First, a final salute to backwards talk, an affliction that affects the majority of MLB baseball announcers:

"He pitches inside, and makes the feet move of Lucas Duda." This is a new kind of backwards talk.

"He's got a lot of ground balls tonight, has Niese."

And my favorite: "As, changing it up, is Peavey." The announcer could've just said Peavey threw a changeup, but no.

But they always speak in their own language. Here are a few examples:

After Roger Bernadina almost flew to second base, FP said "Boy, he was some kinda gittin' it around first base!"

He "pulled the string" on the curve ball. That means he made it dip at the very end.

"And he never overswang!"

"Awww! He overdove it."

And when the announcers are in NY, the phrases are a little bit Yiddish:

Craig Scheppler warming up: "and he's no schlepper!" Yiddish is built into the language of New York.

They also say creepy, offensive things like, "As Joe Ortiz, the 'portly left-hander' takes the mound." They seem to have no clue this might be wrong. And yes, that was another random "As" statement, this time spoken by a Texas Rangers broadcaster. 

They're just not very bright. One announcer noted that a player was "very fast on speed." I don't think he meant the drug. He just meant the guy was fast. As I say, not too bright.

The Mets have a player named Josh Satin. He was doing well for a while and I loved seeing a white sign in the stands. It had bold red letters that screamed: "Hail Satin!" Never saw it again. I'll bet some twit objected. People are no fun at all.

They also tell old stories. One broadcaster mentioned a player from back in the day. He said the player's name was Gwodz and "everyone called him eye chart". I love this sort of baseball trivia.

They have their own brand of humor, these baseball guys. And they say things in a very down-home way. For instance, when Derek Lowe was guest-broadcasting for the Red Sox, he said this about the catcher, David Ross: "He's funny as all giddyup in that clubhouse, let me tell you!" I'll bet he is.

Anyway, it wasn't my favorite season. But it'll do. It's baseball so I can't help but love it.

Baseball language and stadium "music"

I wrote a post recently where I asked why they play such dreadful, boring "music" at baseball games. Tunes like the theme from The Addams Family and (dog help us) Green Acres are often included in baseball games. They also play Hava Nagila and that silly child's tune that goes "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands." No tunes anywhere in the universe could be more boring.

After posting the question, I looked up the answer. It was slim pickings on the internet, but I did find a couple of suggestions that these songs are chosen because they make people clap their hands. Duh. Could there possibly be a more boring reason? Oy. And it's true. Each of these songs has a space where the audience is supposed to clap. Are claps really so precious that they're willing to pollute the stadium with sub-par "music"? Hell, yes!

Moving along, I used to publish tons of posts about the language of baseball. If this interests you, click on that tag below and it will bring you to the posts. Interesting stuff. Okay, here's one more.

I've always been unenthusiastic about some of the language the baseball announcers use. Like saying, "He skied it out to right field!" to denote a ball that's hit really high. "Skied" it? That was the best they could do? How about "lofted" it out into right field? Well, never mind.

Here's another one. When a player hits a low ball, the announcers sometimes say, "He golfed it out to left field!" "Golfed"? How about he "putted" it out to left field? Or "clubbed" it out to left field? Golf isn't the right word to use here.

One last thing. I love when baseball announcers state their man-love for a pitcher by saying "I. Like. His. Stuff!" They don't like the catcher's stuff, or a great hitter's stuff. No. This is a comment restricted to pitchers. And obviously, it's a phrase used only for men, by nature of baseball's all-male ranks.

So here's a question. Could this term apply to a woman? Will we ever hear members of Congress saying "I. Love. Pelosi's. Stuff!" I think someone in a position of power should try this out. Okay, that's it for today. Gotta go watch some baseball games.

Baseball stuff

I found out a few things about baseball this year. Longtime readers know I love the game but am fairly new to it. I guess I've been watching for nearly six years now. In any case, one thing I learned is that the catcher and pitcher are referred to as "the battery". For some reason, this makes me smile. (And as with anything you learn, you suddenly hear it said all the time. That is so weird.)

Also, I was surprised this year when a third foul-bunt was called an out. I had no idea this rule existed. Here's what I found at wiki.answers.com:

Foul balls were not considered strikes initially. Some years later, when it became clear that a batter might hit foul balls endlessly in an effort to get a good pitch to hit, the pitcher was given somewhat of a break by an 1858 rule that declared any foul ball to be a strike, unless there were already two strikes on the batter. After the bunt came into existence as a strategy, it also became clear that a batter could literally bunt all day to try to get his pitch. To retain some balance, the rule was further amended, in 1894, to declare any foul bunt a strike.

Hey, that actually makes sense. Moving right along... During a game this year, I heard an announcer say that 100 active MLB players are on ADHD medication. Now, I'm very suspicious about the value of all these speed prescriptions that are handed out like candy to ADHD people, especially kids, so I view this with a jaundiced eye. However, I guess this means 100 current baseball players are on speed (or something similar). Weird.

Finally, to put to bed an issue I raised in my "language of baseball" posts (click on the tag below to see them) last year, I heard something new about calling a fly ball a "can of corn". The other day, when an announcer used this phrase during a game, he said, "And as Red Barber used to say, 'that's a can of corn.'" Mystery solved.

Baseball headline and other funny stuff

"Buccholz tries to get Red Sox off the schneid at Comerica Park", screams the Chicago Tribune headline. (Meaning of schneid.)

Dog, I love the fact that baseball is back. The timing couldn't be better for me. I'm ready to lose myself in the baseball season. And hey, the Mets are 2-0 and the Yanks are 0-2. Woot!

A few funny things I've heard sportscasters say this season:

Gary Cohen about an old-time player: "Well, he was on the backside of his career then."

Hawk Harrelson: "In my time zone . . ." What he means by that is, "Back when I played . . ." I like that. It's creative. I wonder if he made it up.

And I always find it funny when they refer to a player as "a leader in the clubhouse". I picture a guy wearing only a towel around his neck, saying "C'mon guys! Let's go take a steam."


Baseball's back and I couldn't be happier.

Quickie baseball post

So far, my favorite sportscaster remark occurred during a Red Sox/Phillies spring training game.

The sportscaster was talking about the Red Sox' "historic collapse" at the end of last season and the need to prove themselves with a good start this year. He said:

"They have to show they've got wind under their belts."

A ham and egger

I watched a Mets/Giants baseball game from 2010 tonight. During the broadcast, Ron Darling referred to a player as a ham and egger.

When Gary Cohen asked what the phrase meant, Darling said "a ham and egger is a guy who goes on the DL with a minor injury the minute he hears he's gonna be sent down".

I like the term though I wonder about it. How does ham and eggs become the symbol of a useless guy who never steps up and always looks out for himself rather than the team? To me, the phrase ham and egger makes me think of someone who sends out for breakfast and eats it on the delivery bag at his desk. But then, I lived half my life in offices. It must mean something else to baseball players, huh? I wonder what.

Suggestions?

Baseball talk

Jeez, I haven't done one of these posts in a while. Let me make up for it. Here are some fun things I heard the announcers say during a baseball game.

Keith Hernandez, during a game: "Dizzy Dean was hit in the head in a double-play. They took X-rays and the report was that the X-rays showed nothing!" And all three announcers laugh.

I heard a new use of the term schneid. After Lucas Duda hit his first home run after months of trying, one of the Mets announcers cried, "And Lucas Duda finally gets off the schneid!"

I liked this one: "You might need a suitcase to visit that home run!"

Stuff I heard while watching a baseball game

Random bits of baseball talk uttered by announcers during a game:

The bases are loaded, the count is 3-2, and the announcer says "What he needs here is a strike-out!" -- This from the department of baseball duh.

I love when teams that haven't been hitting finally start to get a few hits, and the announcer says, "The Giants have found their bats!" Makes me laugh every time.

When the announcers talk about an old player or recently deceased announcer, suddenly they sound high-toned -- or try to. Their entire way of speaking changes and we're treated to sentences like: "Just a superb gentleman, one of the finest I've ever been associated with." Indeed. Now, let's get back to the game.

Speaking of trying to sound high-toned (and coming off sounding ridiculous), I saw a graphic where they printed the question of the day: "Off of whom did --- hit nine grand slams?" I love "off of whom". I really do. They aimed for high-falutin' and failed miserably.

Lately, White Sox announcer Hawk Harrelson has taken to saying "Mercy! You've gotta be bleepin' me!" There's a reason he's my favorite announcer.

They just go wild over pitchers, don't they? Pitcher talk is almost sexual: "You can't make a much better pitch than that one, with that kind of stuff on it, and in that location." They're truly roused by pitchers. (This is reminiscent of when announcers rave over a batter's "sweet swing".)

When a guy needed to throw a ball to a baseman quickly but threw it in a high, lazy arc instead, the announcer said, "It had a little too much air under it." Nice. Another way I've heard this said is "he threw a rainbow in." A little off the beaten path, but I like it.

There's an odd phrase I often hear the announcers use. If, for instance, it seems that the opposing team, leading 3-2 in the 8th inning, is about to make it a 7-2 game, the announcers may say, "You don't want them puttin' a crooked number up there." I like that. Unbalanced = crooked.

Okay, one more. When a pitcher was throwing easy-to-hit pitches I heard Keith Hernandez say the guy was "throwing a lot of fat pitches". I find that interesting because I think it means that's how the batter actually sees it. It's as if the ball is literally larger. When the pitcher continued this behavior, Keith said in an exasperated voice: "He's throwin' grapefruits up there!" Made me laugh.

Okay, that's it from the magic land of baseball talk. Heard any good phrases in a game lately?

Baseball's language of disdain and admiration

Baseball announcers have catchphrases to express their opinion of players. Here are a few of the things they say:

"He's a free swinger." This is a nice way to say the batter is a fool who will swing at anything.

"He got a couple of soft hits."  Refers to a particular kind of lazy, up-in-the-air, shouldn't-have-been-a-hit hit. No one is impressed, though it did the job.

"And Cano waves at the ball." Delivered in a tone worthy of Bea Arthur, this denotes a complete lack of effort on the batter's part. I love this one. He's saying the guy swung the bat like a five-year-old.

And let's not forget the deadly but silent backwards k, the symbol for "struck out looking." They might as well use a dunce cap for the icon. There is great derision in that backwards k. It's one of several silent "words" that appear in the language of baseball. More on this another day.

On the other hand, sometimes the sportscasters love the players:

"He got all of that ball!" = Wow, did he hit that ball! Wattaguy!

"I'm impressed at the way the 2nd baseman is flashing the leather!" = the guy's making incredible catches.

The other night, after a guy ran full-force into a barrier, the sportscaster said "Great play by Roberts, giving up his body to help his pitcher!"

That last one is part of the lingering mythos of baseball, which says harm to players is inconsequential -- mere collateral damage. Meanwhile, the guy has a concussion for at least six months and is half the man he used to be.

And now I have three questions for readers. I can't ferret out the meaning of the following baseball terms on my own. I could consult the google god, of course, but I'd rather depend on friends and hearsay. So here are my questions:

"That's a bang woof 'em". What the hell is that?

"And he makes a shoe-string catch!" I have no clue about this one.

And finally, why is the middle of the 7th called "stretch time"?

That's it for today but don't worry. I still have tons of notes to write up for baseball talk. These posts won't stop until the season does. (OMG! I didn't want to think that last thought. Purge, purge!)

The great "as" and "the" in baseball talk

"As this ball rifled by Carrasco!"

Baseball announcers pull these "As" sentences out of the air. In this instance, nothing in particular was going on, no one was talking, yet out of the blue one of the announcers began that sentence with "As". I don't get it but the announcers apparently do. They know that "As" is always an appropriate word with which to begin any baseball sentence.

"As Thole slides into first!"
"As the ball outside -- 1 and 2."

They do this umpteen times in every game. Sometimes you can even catch them combining baseball-language tools, using both the "As" move and the famous "backwards talk" move:

"As, coming down heavily, the rain may halt the game."

But "As" is not alone in this exalted position. "The" has a kingly power on the field. What do I mean by this? Read on.

"Jacoby Elsbury: the base hit!" 

Sure, you could just say "a" base hit but it's not quite up to snuff. No, "the" is the word you're looking for. Actually, it should be capitalized like this: "The Base Hit!". "The" indicates something grand has just walked onto the field. It's as if Greatness, usually On-High, miraculously descended to appear at the ballpark: The Base Hit!!! Here are a few more examples:

"What this guy needs is The Home Run!" It's as if he's calling the spirit of "The Home Run", an entity in itself, and asking it to grace the field. "A" home run wouldn't do in this instance. Oh, no, no, no. "The" is clearly called for here.

"He gets him at second; he gets him at first -- The Double Play!!" It's like a sighting of the Blessed Virgin Mary or the Queen herself: "Gasp! Look, mum! The Queen!"

Okay, one more thing from the happy land of baseball. I was watching Hawk Harrelson the other night. He announces the White Sox games and is my favorite sportscaster, hands down (strapped down, in fact). His usual on-air partner, Steve Stone, was absent for a few days and so his old co-announcer (whose name I forget; sorry) filled in for Stone.

These two guys were so giddy together, it was insane. They were like two little boys trying not to giggle as they served mass: totally out of control. At one point they tried to tell a story about Art Kushner, a baseball guy who now works at a fantasy baseball camp. They swore Art was the funniest guy in baseball.

So they trotted out this story that, as I say, they tried to tell -- but they couldn't because they were laughing too hard. You couldn't even tell who was speaking because their voices both ascended into an upper-upper register and remained there. They could hardly get a squeak out.

Finally, they managed to say that Art would tell stories about taking his dog Lucky out "for his morning drag." At the very mention of the dog's name -- Lucky -- they fell to the floor with laughter. And then, as they tried to get the punchline out, it seemed neither could do it. By this point, of course, I was laughing along with them. You do, when people get giddy. Finally they squeaked out: "He had only one leg!" After which they tumbled into an endless fit of giggles. I got a big kick out of it.

Okay, that's it for baseball talk today. Enjoy the games! Subway series in NYC this weekend. And my Red Sox are playing Annie's Cubbies! It's incestuous and fabulous.

The language of baseball

It's been awhile, laddies and ladies, but I'm finally ready to do another post on the language of baseball. Let's begin by talking about the pervasive folksiness of the sport.

As the baseball season began, a couple of times I heard announcers say of a player: "He really had a good camp." In other words, he did well in Spring training. It's all kids and camp to these guys. Same with calling the locker room the "clubhouse". Indeed. And where to we pay our dues to join? Sounds cozy.

One announcer said of a pitcher who had potential but really didn't understand his craft: "He puts his fanny right next to Buehrle's when they're not pitching -- and he's learned a lot."

Early in the season, it seemed the Mets couldn't win a game. When they finally did win one, Gary Cohen, one of the Mets announcers, said "Terry Collins finally got a chance to shake some hands and pat some rears on Sunday."

Said of a player who's always switching teams: "He's always wearing different laundry." I got a kick out of that line and it speaks to the camp-like reality of the baseball locker room, where fresh laundry is always the order of the day.

Said of a player who was just pitched tight inside: "That'll loosen up his jersey!"

As I say, it's very folksy in baseball-land. Okay, now a couple of baseball peeves:

"Nice hustle by (whoever)!" Really!? He's showing some special quality by running full out for first base while being paid millions of dollars to do so? Really?

And what's with these lawless umpires? "I think that's a little hometown scoring" said an announcer, referring to a player who was given a "hit" when he really reached on an error. And why? Because he was the hometown guy, a hero of the sport, that's why. Shifty umpiring sucks and yet it's totally accepted. This has to change. They're there to give an accurate call or they shouldn't be there at all.

And finally, just for fun, let's haul out some weird baseball names from the past. They really add to the sport, I think. I'll list more in a future post but here are just a few of these fabulous names: 

Stubby Clap
Skeeter Barnes
Firpo Marberry
Butch Husky
Johnny Dickshot
Dick Pole

It's hard to believe they're real people, but they are. Baseball seems to attract these names like honey draws flies. Kinda fun. Okay, that's it for today's baseball talk. More coming soon! I have a sea of notes to put up here -- and I guarantee you, some of them will loosen up your jersey.

Baseball's "backwards talk"

One day in the Magic Land of Baseball -- though no one can say which day it was, definitively -- a sportscaster did something very odd. He started talking backwards. And like a viral meme, this strange way of speaking took over the Magic Land of Baseball, where it thrives to this day.

What the heck am I talking about? Here are some examples:

"And back to the bag at first, is Ellsbury!"

"Very sharp tonight, is Chris Young."

Get the idea? Seriously, how could such a trend catch on? It's not like it sounds good. It's not like it's easier to say. It's just dumb. But does that stop them?

"He's got an idea up there for sure, does young Zimmerman."
"And trying to keep it a three-run spread, is Jordan Smith!"

It's insane. They do this in every game.

"Stayed back on it, did Ike."

"Almost throwing the ball away, was Runzler!"

C'mon guys, seriously. Listen to yourselves. How did a thing like this ever get started? Anyway, just one more odd thing about the language of baseball: backwards talk.

Baseball talk!

Now that I'm doing posts about the language of baseball, I always keep a pad and pen at my side when watching a game. I've been collecting words and phrases since before the season began. What's happening at this point is that they're falling into categories. Each category will end up being a post (like the recent one about the physical nature of baseball talk; that's one category). But some baseball talk is hard to categorize. It's just loose talk. Here's some of it, all from the mouths of our intrepid baseball announcers:

"He's been around Major League Baseball for a long time -- first with the Orioles, then the Tigers -- and he even spent a cup of coffee with the Reds." This seems to mean he wasn't there long. Nice: spent a cuppa coffee.

"And of course, he played in the Dominican." Baseball has no time for Republics. None at all.

One endearing thing the announcers sometimes say about a player whose at-bat went well, is "He has a nice idea up there." It's kind of sweet, like they're old men sitting in rocking chairs in front of a general store and commenting on the passers-by.They even repeat themselves like old men: "Yup, a nice idea."

Now, here's one that I've got a question about. As they announce the line-ups, when they come to the catcher they'll often say, "And Castro (or Varitek or whoever) gets the nod tonight." At first I saw this as just meaning that the manager picked this guy to play tonight. Nice and simple. They have several back-up catchers and this one "got the nod". However, I've come to realize they never say this about a second baseman. You don't hear ". . . and Pedroia gets the nod tonight at 2nd." Doesn't happen. So could this mean the catcher "gets the nod" from the pitcher, as in the pitcher nods to him when he puts down the right sign? (Another way this is said is "So-and-so gets the call behind the plate" which seems like a variation on the same theme: the catcher "calling" the game this time, rather than the pitcher nodding at him.) Peanut gallery input requested.

"And now the pesky Red Sox 2nd baseman, Dustin Pedroia, steps into the batter's box." Ever notice how they only call the small guys "pesky"? For instance, they never say, "and now the pesky Alex Rodriguez" (or god forbid, Barry Bonds). Pesky = tiny and swattable. It is a dismissive term reserved for short guys (who are also tough, which is what makes them so darn pesky).

Here's another one: If a team gets any players on base, they're "trying to get something going here in the (whatever) inning." Apparently if no one is on base, they're not trying to get something going.

And finally, I'm always amused when a pitcher makes his first throw of the day -- a really fast one -- and the announcer says: "95 miles and hour, right out of bed!" Makes me laugh every time.

Okay, kids, that's it for now. But I've got a ton more. Stay tuned.

Soft hands and a nice pat on the butt

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.

The language of baseball

In order of approval, my three favorite teams are the Mets, the Red Sox and the White Sox. So most of the baseball language I hear comes from the announcers who work these games.

A favorite is Ken Harrelson, who announces the White Sox games. He was known as Hawk Harrelson when he was a player. How can you not like a guy who begins every show with, "So sit back, relax, and strap it down! White Sox baseball coming your way!" You gotta. (But what is he telling us to strap down, exactly? I can't figure that out.)

Harrelson was the first announcer that I heard using a phrase that was entirely new to me. When there's a nice, high fly ball to the outfield and it's easy for the fielder to catch, he says, "Can of corn!" I thought that was so odd. And then I heard Ron Darling, one of the Mets announcers, say the same thing.

What could they mean? The only thing that comes to mind for me is an image of two people in a kitchen and one throws a can of corn to the other in a very slow, deliberate way, knowing it's not a safe thing to toss around and must be handled gently. So it's like a baby throw, done in a way that almost guarantees the person can catch it. Is that the connection? Chime in if you have another idea.

(And only now will I peek at the Intertubes to see what they say. I found this: "The most accepted theory is that the phrase, 1st used in 1896, makes reference to a long-ago practice where a grocer would use a stick to tip a can off a high shelf, then catch it in his hands or outstretched apron." Well, whoopee. This answer does nothing for me, although it does arrive at the same image: a can or corn easily falling, easily caught. Chime in, readers.)

Moving right along, in a game Hawk Harrelson called last week, a pathetic ball -- a pop-up that didn't pop up much, stayed in the infield and was easy to catch, he said, ". . . a little duck-snort falls in." Dog only knows what the man meant with that one. Do ducks snort gently?

And in another game, a Mets game, I think, the announcer called one hit "a cue shot". And sure enough, if you looked at the field from overhead, you saw the ball do the little bounce like a pool ball hit by a cue, and then head toward the far field with another little bounce. It looked just like a pool shot. I love that they have these highly descriptive phrases for the ball's movement.

And finally, I want to mention the cultural undercurrents in baseball. There is this ironclad idea that a player is straight, youngish, married, and has kids. They love to talk about the wives and what a great father the player is, and that's fine. But they also push a strange, male role-model image.

For instance, Ron Darling was explaining what players were doing during a Spring training exercise. They were showing footage where a pitcher purposely threw the ball in the dirt, right in front of the catchers crotch, to teach him to handle plays where the ball comes in like that. Darling said, "And of course, if you were doing this with your brother, you'd try to hurt him." This was just an idle statement. No one commented on it because that's the way it is. Of course you'd try to hurt your brother if you were the pitcher, he was the catcher, and you were doing this exercise. Almost goes without saying. There's a lot of this in baseball, and usually the values are warped.

Okay, that's it for today's baseball-language post. More coming soon -- throughout the season, in fact.

The language of baseball

I love the way baseball sportscasters talk about the game. They say such odd things.

For instance, they present a united front on this point: the singular of Red Sox is Red Sock -- "He used to be a Red Sock, didn't he?" You hear this all the time.

Moving right along, the plural of baseman is basemans. -- "He was one of the all-time great first basemans." (Though they probably would spell it "basemens", if asked. Me, I don't see the need.)

I also like the way they talk about young players. They'll say, "He's a good-lookin' second baseman, yup, a good-lookin' second baseman." The first time I heard this, I looked at the guy and thought, "Well, he seems good-looking enough. But it seems an odd remark." When, in a later game, I heard an announcer refer to a horse-faced young man as a "good-lookin' player," their intended meaning finally hit me.

Rather than put every one of these odd phrasings into a single post, I'm going to save a few so I can do another "language of baseball" post at a later date. In fact, I'll probably write several of them. It's a big field.

Do you have any favorite sportscaster language? Chime in.