Glory Days

I had a friend, was a big baseball player
Back in high school
He could throw that speedball by you
Make you look like a fool, boy.

"Glory Days", Bruce Springsteen (1982)

For the sake of carbon footprint concerns, I'm staying in the land of Uncle Charley (my late great-uncle), swapping my Colt and cowgirl hat for a baseball bat and cap, and off I hit the plate, ready to attempt my home run. A daunting challenge, I admit, but that is precisely what is suggested by the 7 of Diamonds this month — on par with the diamond-shaped field and seven defenders (in addition to the pitcher and catcher) of the opposing team. This card invites us to take a step back and look beyond appearances. Sometimes, what may be considered an issue is actually a blessing in disguise. What if it were an opportunity to make a quantum leap?

The Aces of Base

Well-established in the American landscape for nearly two centuries, baseball is more than just a sport: it is an institution deeply rooted in the culture and history of the country. It is even the Americans' favourite pastime, a tradition passed down from generation to generation. Although, since the 1960s, (American) football has largely taken the lead in the running for the symbolic title of national sport.

For my part, I must admit that my experience lies solely in reading Stephen King's  The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, where a kid lost in the woods copes with all the terrors that come her way by listening to baseball games on her Walkman (the ancestor of MP3 players). Or that iconic scene from the Twilight movie with Muse's "Supermassive Blackhole" playing in the background, where the vampires play baseball in the midst of a storm.

Another peal of thunder began. Esme stopped then; apparently, we'd reached the edge of the field. It looked as if they had formed teams. Edward was far out in left field, Carlisle stood between the first and second bases, and Alice held the ball, positioned on the spot that must be the pitcher's mound.
  Emmett was swinging an aluminum bat; it whistled almost untraceably through the air.
  I waited for him to approach home plate, but then I realized, as he took his stance, that he was already there — farther from the pitcher's mound than I would have thought possible.
  Jasper stood several feet behind him, catching for the other team. Of course, none of them had gloves.
  All right," Esme called in a clear voice, which I knew even Edward would hear, as far out as he was. "Batter up."
  Alice stood straight, deceptively motionless. Her style seemed to be stealth rather than an intimidating windup. She held the ball in both hands at her waist, and then, like the strike of a cobra, her right hand flicked out and the ball smacked into Jasper's hand.
  "Was that a strike?" I whispered to Esme.
  "If they don't hit it, it's a strike," she told me.

Twilight, Stephenie Meyer (2005)

So I did some research to grasp of the basics, which are way more complicated than what Americans call soccer (football in Europe). Do football rules elude you? Wait till I introduce you to baseball rules!

The Four-Corner Game

Two teams of nine players compete against each other. One team attacks (sending one of its players to bat), while the other defends (throwing the ball and trying to eliminate the batters).

The pitcher (defender) throws a ball. The batter (attacker) tries to intercept it by hitting it with a bat. 

If he succeeds, he runs to the first base, then the next ones, hoping to return to his starting point — called home plate — to score a point. Meanwhile, the defending team tries to retrieve the ball and get him out by throwing it to a base ahead of him or touching him with it.

The batters take turns one by one, in a fixed order. But as soon as three batters in a row are out, it is the defenders' turn to attack. They switch roles.

Each player keeps their position: the pitcher stays pitcher, the catcher stays catcher. But everyone takes turns batting when their team is on offence.

Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical.

Yogi Berra, former professional baseball catcher

The battle between the pitcher and the batter is a key moment in every game, where strategy, skill and psychology combine. The design of the mound on which the pitcher stands is also crucial in this one-on-one situation, influencing the game and providing viewers with great thrills.

The pitcher is the cornerstone of any top-level baseball team. Their ability to surprise and eliminate opposing batters is what may lead their team to victory. Pitchers need to assess each batter and choose which pitches to use based on their opponent's strengths and weaknesses.

The Tick-Tock Tactic

A game is usually composed of nine innings, each consisting of two phases: one where a team is batting and one where it is fielding. If the scores are tied at the end (only the number of points or runs scored is counted, not the number of innings won), extra innings are played until one team takes the lead.

Baseball has no game clock. Innings define the pace, following a logical sequence of repeated cycles. Each team plays, waits, then plays again. Over and over again. There is no 'official' pace of play, just innings to be played. Occasionally, some games may seem to last forever, exceeding 4 hours in duration. Meanwhile cricket games – the British bat-and-ball sport baseball originated from – may extend over several consecutive days in a liturgy of suspended time.

But all this comes at a cost. Ultimate tempo masters, pitchers are subjected to extreme physical strain affecting their arms, shoulders to such extent it may take them several days to recover after a single game. Players may grow exhausted, but the loop goes on.

Foul Role Play

Up along the clouds where the eagles roam,
Joe cracked that ball to whine and moan.
His buddies all laugh as they trot on in:
Joe DiMaggio's done it again."

Joe DiMaggio Done it Again", Billy Bragg (1999) 

The field is called ‘the diamond’, but it is just a 2D projection of the Matrix cube, viewed from a certain angle and run around, one pillar (base) at a time, counter-clockwise. Even when you hit a home run, you're back to square one, the home plate. You may feel like you're making progress, whereas you're merely completing another lap around your cage. 

And all the while, the bat keeps swinging and the field keeps wearing you out. The bat is wielded as an instrument of power, a striking force, and a symbol of decision. But on closer inspection, it was primarily designed to strike within the framework, not to break away from it. It is reminiscent of the stick used to break piñatas open and release the treats. And in traditional puppet shows, it is always the same ‘villain’ who gets beaten with a truncheon.

With each turn, roles are switched: one day you pitch, the next you strike. Always on the same matrix field. Same odd field. Same old scenarios. Panem et circenses. Bread and games. Another variant of the chessboard squares. The Matrix continues to alter, recycle, and recombine, but it never creates. It requires our input to do so.

To paraphrase now-defunct French rock band Téléphone, I'd say that we play our lives just like we play baseball. We win and lose, always hoping to score just one more round before the loop resets. Sometimes, you hold the grip then have to throw the bat away after one hit. Sometimes, you lose your grip and it might even cost you an arm and a leg. Oops!

Bats of Burden

Revolutions happen when baseball bats and golf clubs change hands. The exact dates and litres of blood spilled are matters for historians to argue about.

Anonymous

In the sporting world, same as in the world of the Demiurge, there is this basic idea of hitting that keeps coming back: we hit the ball, we hit the road, we hit records. We beat the band, we beat the odds, we beat time... in excess.

We're also very much on the receiving end of these violent phrases – especially in the French language. Violence – with all the suffering and loosh it creates – appears to be a key part of this predatory world. Even the party is going full swing, as if joy, too, had to pass through the rhythmic prongs of a well-oiled system. And when it gets too obvious, the cards are reshuffled. But the game remains the same.

All cards are marked,
All fates will collide.

"Where Were You Hiding When the Storm Broke?", The Alarm (1983)

The fact is, language knows, even if we no longer listen to it. We are bombarded with the same old stuff, we are led down the same old paths, and meanwhile, we carry the burden... where it hurts.

For there is always something to endure. A burden, a rule, a cycle. Some ground to gain, some base to reach. Again. And again. 

And when you think you've scored a point... the cycle begins again.

© La Pensine Mutine. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited.

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