All the time between pitches, the number of foul balls during an at-bat, an eight-pitch walk, a pop fly, a ground-out to the second baseman. A line-out to the third baseman, a fly ball to the left fielder, a seven-pitch strike-out, a 6-4-3 double-play. A failed bunt attempt, a dribbler out to the pitcher, four straight step-offs to keep a baserunner in check. A pitch-out, an intentional walk, six straight foul balls. A pitching change, another pitching change, another pitching change, another pitching change. A mound conference, another mound conference with the pitching coach, a batter calls time, a pitcher steps off, three straight pickoff throws to first.
Lackluster. Monotonous. A snooze fest.
But what about home runs? Grand slams, walk-offs, leadoff homers, inside-the-park home runs, back-to-back jacks. A stolen base, a double steal, a steal of home. Hitting for the cycle. A hustle double, a suicide squeeze, beating the throw home, barreling over the catcher, running through a stop sign at third, a 5-for-5 night. A player's 3000th hit, their 500th home run. Tying it up with two outs in the 9th, hitting a ball completely out of the park (and into a street or river), a come-from-behind victory. Curtain calls, bases-loaded hits, bouncing it fair off the foul pole. Clearing the Green Monster, landing it in the basket, smacking it onto the railroad tracks, into McCovey Cove, the Allegheny, the Ohio River, the ray tank, the waterfall. A double-digit strikeout game, a no-hitter, a perfect game. A complete game, a shut-out. Throwing a runner out at home, nailing a wannabe base stealer. Making a diving catch, doubling off a runner, a leaping throw to get a runner, a barehanded pick and toss, robbing someone of a home run. A triple play.
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Baseball is a lot like a story. A long, complex story with a ton of minutiae. Without understanding all the little details, it's hard to understand the narrative very well. You may grasp the whole picture, but grasping it and appreciating it are two entirely different things. There are a whole number of layers to baseball that not everyone realizes exists, and the more you discover and understand these layers, the more exciting the game becomes. The story becomes more complex, more nuanced, and exciting. Suddenly every pitch has significance, every foul ball adds a detail to the story, and every at-bat is another chapter.
An 0-2 count can mean that a strike-out is about to occur. But the first strike was a borderline call and the second strike was a foul ball that the batter put good wood on. The batter may be behind in the count, but he's not in as bad a shape as he looks. Pitch three is a ball in the dirt. The pitcher threw a breaking ball, trying to get the batter to chase at a bad pitch. The first two pitches were fastballs and were meant to set up the breaking ball by messing with the batter's timing. But that didn't work, the pitcher needs to make another pitch. Does he throw another breaking ball, or go back to the fastball? He has a 1-2 count, room to throw another breaking ball outside the strike zone, but the batter is aware of this too. The catcher calls a pitch, and the pitcher shakes him off. The batter wonders what pitch he shook off. Maybe the pitcher didn't like the location the catcher called. The first pitch had been on the outside corner while the second pitch drifted over from the outside corner to over the plate. Maybe liked neither the pitch nor the location. The pitcher throws a fastball, the batter recognizes it, and manages to foul it off and stay alive. Did that mean he was looking for the breaking ball? Did the pitcher have him fooled?
It's still a 1-2 count. Again, the pitcher can afford to throw a breaking ball outside the strike zone. But he could also go with a high fastball. The batter chased the fastball on the last pitch, maybe he'll do it again. The pitcher opts for the breaking ball, and again bounces it. Did he mean to bounce it? Or was he trying to freeze the batter with a strike while the batter was looking fastball? Maybe the hitter was expecting a breaking ball and quickly recognized it was going to be a ball. The count is 2-2. The pitcher's gotta go fastball, right? He can't seem to throw his breaking ball for a strike. But wait, the pitcher also can throw a splitter. This would seem like the perfect time to throw it, but the batter knows that, and the pitcher hasn't thrown a splitter in about 15 pitches. It's also only the 2nd inning, so the pitcher doesn't know if he has a good feel for the pitch yet. He throws it anyway. Ball three is low and outside. 3-2. Three of the pitcher's last four pitches have been balls. He doesn't want to walk the batter, but the only pitch he can throw for a strike is his fastball, and the batter is an excellent fastball hitter. He goes with the fastball, and the batter grounds out to the shortstop. But during his next at-bat, the batter only swings at fastballs and hits a home run.
The devil's in the details, every pitch, every at-bat.
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I don't really know how to end this post. I'm not the best at wrapping things up, and it also happens to be 4 a.m. The point is, baseball can be boring. I admit that. It can be suffocatingly boring at times. Watching bad teams play shitty baseball for three hours is draining, and if these teams go into extra innings, I feel bad for those people who are at the game, paying to sit and watch crummy baseball for hours on end. But then there are these moments: It's the 8th inning of a one-run game, the bases are loaded, and your star pitcher is trying to protect that lead while facing the other team's best hitter. The pitcher throws fastballs and breaking balls. That's it, just those two pitches. What's he gonna throw? How is he going to get this hitter out? First pitch fastball? If he does, what comes next? Another fastball? Finish him off with a breaking ball?
It's not easy to learn all the minutiae of baseball. It's taken me years to really grasp the different layers of the game (as much as someone who's only watched but never played can). A well-played game or series can be just as fascinating and captivating as a good book. But it's hard to appreciate a good book if you rely on the cliff notes instead of the book itself. That's sort of what it's like to watch baseball without a deep level of appreciation for the subtleties of the game. So hey, if you want to just go by one cliff notes, then by all means do so. But remember that when you critique baseball for being boring. You're not getting the whole story. And let me tell you, it's quite a tale. Well worth the read.
