Pete Rose applied to be reinstated to the Hall of Fame once more. When I hear this, I sigh: I do not like to cripple my life with legalism. Let him in. And I do not like to forgive unless…
Category: Spring
I watched an A’s player swing through a ball and walk back to the dugout. He watched the dirt morph into grass below his cleats. What, then? A minute to remember each pitch: slider, curve, straight change? Must he sit…
It seems like August, when left fielders stand in the sun and wonder if they might hold dandelions in their fingertips. Perhaps they might wonder about blossoms unfolding. They might lose themselves in bloom. And forget the sun lining their…
With a runner at second, a righthanded hitter stood at the plate. He was down by four. His team was down by four. But he might’ve tried to even it out. Get ahead at once! Instead, he checked his swing…
I watched a baseball game to see how people train. Instead, I saw the one with stars circling his head. Something like a crown. His helmet sparkled with light from above. On the bill, most likely, or above his ear…
Giants and Padres: Tyler Lindsey cracked a sinking line drive to left. Jarrett Parker dove into the grass, hat jostling, and misplayed the ball. Angels and A’s: Tyler Landendorf knocked a ball to right center, sliding safely into third after…
Is it possible to follow baseball without turning into a hopeless romantic? I haven’t penned so much poetry since 8th grade. But somehow I was able to stand alone in a bookstore, reading about a player who cheated and lied….
The spring has started, with flowers, allergies, light. Pitchers and catchers. You come, too. Truly, there is no sight sadder than one baseball glove. No sight more grand than a familiar figure scraping the dirt and flinging a ball back…
Stephen Strasburg tosses a couple of fastballs near Peter Bourjos. A couple of years ago, Strasburg was potentially so good that he couldn’t play. His innings were limited by Washington after elbow surgery recovery. At one point, perhaps the best…