“I’ve written this before: I never argue with people who say baseball is boring, because baseball is boring. And then, suddenly, it isn’t. And that’s what makes it great.
“In other words: Then, suddenly, Evan Longoria steps to the plate.”
I’m still pumped 12 hours later.
Ten years ago I went to a James Taylor concert, and he played “Sweet Baby James” as a second encore. I saw a friend of mine walk out after the first encore, and when I asked her why she had left — absolutely knowing he could keep coming back until he played the song — she said she was offended by his egotism, making us “beg” for his signature song. I argued that making the audience wait served a different purpose, heightening anticipation, making it all the better when he actually sang it.
Baseball is like that. You kind of kill time until something utterly fantastic happens. One of the first games I took my sons to at Wrigley Field was a beautiful afternoon, wind off the lake, everything just nice and not a lot going on on the field. A few men left on base, a couple of long fly balls, a double play or two, but not much. Then, in the bottom of the 9th, with the Cubs down 1, Sammy Sosa knocked one over the left field wall.
The whole stadium exploded, everyone leaping to their feet screaming, charged up in a way they (we) wouldn’t have been had the same 3-2 victory been the result of a homer hit in the third inning.
The anticipation and drama aren’t just a fan phenomenon, either. You can’t tell me that Sosa didn’t recognize the moment and focus just a little more, swing just a little harder.
I think of the baseball advertising campaign: “I live for this.” That’s baseball. Posnanski is right: that time until something happens is what makes the game great, because it makes the something that happens that much more intense.