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2004-10-19 - 8:09 p.m. Sox and Yankees I believe in the church of baseball. I've tried all the major religions and most of the minor ones. I've worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, trees, mushrooms, and Isadora Duncan. I know things. For instance, there's 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there's 108 stitches in a baseball. When I learned that, I gave Jesus a chance. But it just didn't work out between us. The Lord laid too much guilt on me. I prefer metaphysics to theology. Y'see, there's no guilt in baseball, and it's never boring. � I've tried them all, I really have. And, the only church that feeds the soul, day in, day out, is the church of baseball. - Annie. Opening monologue from the movie �Bull Durham� I�ve known two baseball fans in my life. Oh, probably more than that, but two have really impressed me with their dedication. One was my colleague, Dr T. Hired by NASA for $4000 annum, the telegram offering him the position hung in his office next to a tasteless picture of a girl in a bikini spouting how she loved her man because he could do calculus. I always forgave him that picture. When a young co-op sassily announced she�d never even seen a punchcard, Dr T pulled on out his files and quietly handed laid it on her desk. I still have that punchcard. He was, God rest his soul, one of the best. An engineer�s engineer who would wander quietly back to his office, pull one of five basic texts off his shelf, and derive the solution from first principals. I doubt I will ever know his equal as a dynamicist, offering solutions both accurate and elegant - his contributions to the nation�s space programs were vast. Hundreds of satellites carry the algorithms he derived. The only reason he did it was for the Yankees. Of all the jobs he was offered, he chose NASA center close to DC because sometimes, just sometimes, the Yankees would come to play the Washington Senators and he could use the Yankees pennon that hung just above the Calculus girl. Ironic how baseball advanced technology. The other is, of course, Gyrth, who joked that his Sox must win this year, after all, he�d already given a leg. Surely someone else would throw out the arm. And now � (Hang on a sec � I�ve got to warn Lis. Okay, sit down, Mel. I�ve noticed that a sporting event is happening.) � the Yankees and Sox are battling it out for the league title in a stunning series of games, with the Sox on the edge against sudden death. I even admit I noticed the scores last night while flipping channels. I really want the Sox to win. Anyone that can pull it out in the 12th inning really deserves the title. But, Americans always love the underdog. My own involvement with the church of baseball is restricted to baseball movies. I love, for some reason, baseball movies. Fields of Dreams. The Natural. And, of course Bull Durham. I know, it�s trite. All women love Bull Durham for Crash�s �I believe� speech. Go ahead, chalk me up as a statistic. But, I bet most of those other women didn�t have an undergrad advisor named Dr. Durham. Oh, and his Navy aviator call sign was (Iamnotmakingthisup) Bull. I really do believe the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. Oh, remember that bit about "You might be a redneck if?" Add these... ... if your mom mails you pictures labeled 'Love from Hooterville. Send food.� ... if your mother has ducks that eat catfood and cats that eat duck food, and a grandson that feeds them both peas. I wonder how the Sox-Yankees game is going. Has it even started yet? And, what is this madness they have to play night after night straight? Shouldn�t there be a break? I remember reading how baseball, with it�s anaerobic pace, is the hardest sport on an athlete�s body. Leave it to America. � � Scribble to Theo previous - next �