ONLY IN BASEBALL, THE SPORT OF SPORTS

By: B -- 6/15/04

It's not always easy to admit you are obsessed with sports. If you are of the philosophical nature -- a reader, an Uptowner, someone who loves that what-does-this-all-mean nonsense -- admitting your love for sports can be downright embarrassing. Sports? Can't you think of something better to do with your time?

It is even more difficult lately to express your devotion to baseball, the supposed lame-wad of sports, the game that is allegedly being taken over by sports such as soccer and lacrosse (though people have been incorrectly predicting this since for years).

I can understand why some people are turned off by baseball. It can't compare to the speed and agility of basketball and doesn't even approach the raw intensity of football. It is a different kind of high, one that eschews talent for mental strength, speed for fundamentals. However, for a person who needs rationalization for everything he believes in, that chokes on details and can't support something without an explanation, baseball is everything; a sport that is so perfect I can legitimately and continually justify my allegiance.

There are three distinct reasons why baseball is the greatest sport of all time, up for debate but not to be dismissed.

Reason One: Talent does not win games
More than anything this shows the complexity and uniqueness of the game. The other major sports exhibit talent as the deciding difference between winner and loser, and also between competitor and spectator. Baseball is the only sport where the mental aspect is far more important than the physical.

Perhaps the best illustration is baseball's draft process. There are countless examples of players who had God-given talent that made grown men swoon, but for some reason couldn't make it to The Show. First rounders who never get a taste in the bigs are as ho-hum as table salt. When is the last time a first-round pick in basketball, who had all the talent in the world, just couldn't make it? Very rarely, if ever. Other sports can easily explain why the top prospect can't achieve success in the pros -- lack of effort, poor scouting, poor coaching, etc. I can think of no time in history that a highly desired point guard or running back couldn't handle the mental aspect. Talent means everything in those sports.

Baseball is different. The biggest differences between winners and losers are the mental approach and fundamentals. This is why baseball is so fair. It mirrors real life. CEOs aren't successful because they can do long division in their head or blindly forecast the direction of the stock market. They work, they research, they study and they show discipline. Success in the major leagues comes the same way it does in life: dedication and hard work.

Reason Two: Intensity means nothing
Mental mistakes are made in baseball for two reasons: lack of concentration and the Superman Syndrome. The Superman Syndrome refers to the temporary belief that passion and energy trump a strong mental approach. This is seen most often with pitchers who feel they can get outs using nothing but fastballs. They have so much adrenaline running through their veins that it fogs up their game plan. They're baseball's version of beer goggles.

I know I can blow my fastball past this guy on 0-2. This is a dangerous thought process. Pedro Martinez once said he tries to approach every game like his arm is sore. I can attest. Some of my best games pitched happened when my arm was throbbing and my fastball was so slow I felt like I was throwing from 65 feet away. This makes you think, makes you rely on pitches other than fastballs and work on your location. Minimizing your intensity, on the mound as well as at the plate, is always the best approach.

Another common occurrence involves blunders on the base path. Too often a runner feels he can energize his squad by taking the extra base. He is thinking only of the intensity and spirit. Quite often the runner gets picked off or caught stealing because he is playing beyond his means, outside his game plan. There are no point runs in baseball like there are in basketball; there are no desperation on-sides kicks or opportunities to pull the goalie. What's there is there, and attempts at winning a game with extra efforts are most always thwarted in a demoralizing and frustrating fashion.

Baseball mimics life in that emotions mainly serve to hinder actual performance and progress. In other sports, intensity and raw emotion serve to feed the players' energy and intimidation. In baseball, the exact opposite is true. The team that rides a rollercoaster of emotions -- whooping it up after scoring in the first inning, constantly arguing with the umpires, cheering loudly and always standing in the dugout -- is at a full disadvantage.

There is a phrase that runs through all sports: "Act like you've been there before." Scoring a goal or touchdown, draining a clutch three, slamming an ace to win the set; a common bit of advice is to keep your emotions in check and act like this isn't your first time experiencing success. Every athlete has heard this. In other sports this is simply referring to a show of respect to the game and the other team.

In baseball, acting like you've been there before is instrumental to success. Being emotional between the lines is as destructive as bringing emotions into a fight with your spouse or a meeting with your boss. Has anything good come from it? It's possible, but there is a reason we are told to restrain our emotions in such situations. In baseball and in life, raw emotion and success are often polar opposites. You don't learn such accurate and vital life lessons in any other sport.

Reason Three: Every second of every game is critical
Potentially, anyway. There are so many little battles, seemingly inconsequential measurements of success that casual fans don't see. Perhaps the easiest example is to explain what is going through the heads of both the pitcher and hitter during every at-bat.

The first pitch is extremely important as it sets the mental tone of the at-bat. Strike one allows the pitcher to open up the zone, to be able to throw his off-speed. Ball one awards control to the batter, because if he doesn't like the next pitch on the corner or at the knees, he feels no pressure to swing. 0-1 is a big count, too, because the batter knows he does not want to go 0-2, giving an extreme advantage to the pitcher. 0-1 is an ideal count to throw a low slider or outside curveball in hopes that the hitter chases it for a quick out. Quick outs are especially important to starting pitchers who are trying to go deep into the game, which helps explain the importance of first-pitch strikes. 0-2 and 1-2 are also great counts for the pitcher because he knows the batter will be choking up and trying to protect the plate, which increases the strike zone by about six inches. These are the only two counts that hitters routinely chase pitches out of the zone. 2-2 is also an extremely important count because the pitcher never wants to run the count to 3-2. The pitcher is still ahead in the count however, and this situation usually calls for a fastball to a corner. 2-0 is a huge count for the batter, because he can dial in on one particular spot of the strike zone. If the ball is thrown to that spot, chances are it will be hit hard somewhere. 2-1 is still a hitter's count because he can take a strike and still be in good shape, and can sit on a fastball because the pitcher does not want to go 3-1. At 3-1, the pitcher needs to come back twice in a row, and often pitchers don't have the confidence to throw an off-speed pitch. Pitchers never want the batter to be sitting on a fastball. 3-2 is the most important pitch of the at-bat.

This is the mindset of every single at-bat in all 162 games. Everything matters. Every player in the field is one play away from making their best catch ever, every hitter at the plate is one swing away from the hitting his farthest home run ever and every pitcher is one pitch away from throwing his tightest curve or dirtiest splitter ever. And no one knows when this is going to happen. There are roughly 150 pitches thrown in a game, and maybe three will go to the right fielder. One may be a liner to the gap, with a man on first and the game on the line. The right fielder is allowed a split-second of reaction time and no more. Before this play, his time was spent more or less standing around, and now he is the difference between a win and a loss, and possibly first and second place.

Tell me how many other sports demand this much overall strength and discipline. Only in baseball is this possible.

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