Baseball Talk

Baseball broadcasters spend surprisingly little time talking about the game in front of them. This is not to say they are doing the same thing as Liebling who would start with the boxing and then wander out into the city; they are very focused on the topic of ’the game’. Just not necessarily this game. They talk about stats: percentage of fastballs, bases stolen, how many beards on the field. They tell old baseball stories: who stole whose bat or how someone ended up at this or that club. Then they slip in jokes about their families when they are certain no one could call them on it (at least in real time).

It is a perfect style because this is how people not only watch but play baseball. It is, at the core, a very conversational game. The most important conversation is between the pitcher and batter. It is often not especially loud and highly intimate. First the pitcher hides everything but his eyes, and looks at the batter. He sees how tall the batter stands, the way he holds the bat, and then he says something.

All pitchers talk differently. Some only talk in short, sharp, cutting statements. Some are less direct. They take their time getting to the point and their path there is less than direct. After all, what is a curve-ball but proof that the longest way round is the shortest way home.

It is then up to the batter to respond. Batters have a rather obvious time limit and so are forced to speak without fully thinking through their response. As a result, they speak when they should be silent or talk loudly when silence was called for. They frequently miss the mark and find themselves talking past the pitcher. But in this conversation the batter has to only say one thing to put the pitcher on their heels and while they all want to say it loud, a well placed point said just at the right volume will also work.

They are not the only ones talking. They are the ones everyone at the table is listening too, but infielders are all whispering about possible responses to the batter. At the ends of the tables, the managers discus who might be most eloquent.

And in the stands the fans talk too. The fans are not at the table, and so not required to follow every word. Sometimes they cannot help themselves, they follow every utterance either speechless or so full of things to say it comes out only as wordless sound. But baseball is a full, nine course meal at a very long table.

So the fans talk to each other. They get a beer. They discus the season. They talk about last night’s game. They take cheap shots at someone who stayed home. Which means that the broadcasters are doing the same thing as the fans, and they are both emulating the players. It’s baseball— lean back, think, lean in, then say something. And don’t worry too much about what you say. It’s a pastime and the wordsmiths are on the field.