What is there to like about baseball?

What is there to like about baseball?

My wife is the sports fan in our house. In fact, when ever sports becomes the topic of conversation, I tell my friends and new acquaintances that I am barely a man when it comes to sports. I played little league for a year and a half, got cut from the 8th grade basketball team, and swam in high school because there weren’t enough guys on the team. So, watching or following any sport is something that I only do in the case of a really exciting basketball championship, or in an attempt to “do something that my wife wants to do for a change,” or if I happen to be the only other barely-a-man in a room full of full-fledged men.
I suppose that I could see the general benefits in being a baseball fan. Baseball caps are fashionable—I own and like to wear at least two of them. There are plenty of statistics and history to memorize and regurgitate. Baseball cards can sometimes be fairly valuable, especially if your mom doesn’t sell your collection at a garage sale.

What is there to like about baseball?

Pretty much nothing. More fun has been had staring at a wall. But, seriously—what is the draw? The first major problem is the time commitment required by the average fan. The game itself lasts 3 1/2 hours, two more than absolutely necessary. Why have nine innings when five would suffice? At three hours a game, even if you only have 3 or 4 teams you follow at two or three games a week per team we are talking like 40 hours a week! I am sorry, but I have to work.
And also, where is the action? Every two hours or so somebody hits a ball that actually gets them on base, and even that is only marginally exciting, because nine times out of ten the inning will end before that player gets to advance, let alone score. Sure, there is the occasional homerun, but I tend to feel more contempt for these players than admiration. The Barry Bonds and Mark McGuires of the world seem to have some kind of unfair advantage over the rest of baseballdom. Who do they think they are hitting the ball so far when most everybody else mostly just swings.
Plus, baseball has to be the only sport when the defense pretty much just has to stand there and do nothing else and they are still effective. I know what its like. I have stood in right field for inning after inning with no ball coming in a direction even remotely close to where I am. I still got the same high fives and “way to look alive” comments on the way back to the dugout. So, if looking alive is the requisite for baseball defense, sign me up and pay me a million dollars: I am alive.
And grief!, the poor pitcher and catcher. I’ve seen the footage of that pitcher who gave himself a compound fracture by the simple act of throwing a ball over and over and over again at a target 15 yards ahead. Who’s idea was it to have one or two guys be the pitchers for a whole team? Why not rotate the players through and give each of them a shot at a strike out. At least that would give the guy in right field a chance to look a little more alive. And the catcher! Can you imagine squatting like that for any longer than two minutes, let alone the eternity that makes up a half an inning? I have only two words for you: knee surgery! Ok, one more—hemorrhoids! Poor, tortured souls (and bums).

What is there to like about baseball?

After a couple of attempts at writing an answer to this question, I have determined that there is only one real reason to like baseball, and the circumstance surrounding that reason can not be accomplished at home with a baseball game on TV. Finding a reason to like baseball can only be accomplished when you have been able to secure for yourself tickets to a real major league baseball game. The tickets have to be for seats in the lower deck of the stadium, unless you like nosebleeds because that’s what you’re to get one sitting in the upper deck of some of the country’s arenas.
Once you have got to the stadium and have found your seat, and stood and sang the National Anthem the reason for liking the sport will have already started to form in your mind. The first pitch will be thrown out by a war veteran or civic servant or movie star and then the game will begin. You will eat peanuts and licorice and drink soda or maybe beer. If you are lucky the stadium you are at will have a great snack section with two foot hotdogs or garlic fries or something else tasty and indulgent.
The first hit will be a foul near your section and you will see the struggle and shuffle of the fans to retrieve the ball. You will start hoping that the next foul ball comes to you. You will cheer (root, root, root) for the home team when they score or keep the other team from scoring. You will boo good naturedly when the other team scores. You will get worked up over a bad call and you might swear loudly at the umpire who made the call.
Yes, at a baseball game you become part of a tradition. You feel a little more American. You are a direct participating part of something that thousands, maybe millions of others are experiencing with you simultaneously. And that is really the only thing to like about baseball.