This installment of The One Board originally appeared in Bowlers Journal International, April, 2022
Unless something changes between the time of this writing and the time of publication (a mere nine months or so), there’s no Major League Baseball this season, once again proving bowling as the true American pastime. Bowling is also the true international pastime, but we’re attacking baseball here, not soccer.
If and when baseball returns, its only hope at salvation is to borrow from bowling. Imagine:
Baseball stadium. 8:43 a.m. It’s the top of the third inning, which means we’ll likely get our first-inning scoring update somewhere around the time of the second out. At bat is feared slugger D, who’s always seemed to have the advantage against former Cy Young Award winner A, but A has been pitching well through the first two innings, so there’s no telling what might happen here.
The fans sit quietly and respectfully, awaiting the next burst of action. A winds up, but at that exact moment, a child behind the plate absent-mindedly lifts his cup to his mouth to enjoy a sip of soda. The pitcher halts his delivery and, although B and C are on second and first, respectively, the umpires do not decree a balk due to the extenuating circumstances. In the next section over, a bumbling man seizes the opportunity to visit the restroom, then trips over a trash can, which crashes to the ground and reverberates throughout the hushed stadium, eliciting hateful, exasperated glares from the other fans.
The runners take off on the next pitch. D crushes the pitch in what is possibly the hardest-hit liner in baseball history. The fans explode from dead silence into uncontrollable screaming. Unfortunately for D, the best contact he’s ever made sent the ball right at the second baseman, who catches the ball, then throws to second base for out number two, where the shortstop then completes the triple play by throwing to first. The fans can barely contain themselves with excitement but are unsure whether they’re allowed to continue cheering or if they should’ve stopped and then restarted cheering between each out. A voice from the upper deck conveys his amazement at the second baseman’s skill, shouting, “What glove is he using?”
Throughout the grandstands, eyes squint at the scoreboard, trying to make out vaguely familiar shapes to determine what might be happening. An audible murmur grows as loud as fans feel comfortable, trading tips on how to properly call a pitch sequence and tales of their .700 batting averages in local recreational softball leagues.
E takes the mound for the visitors in the bottom of the third, violently gesturing at the fans to turn their low murmur into complete silence. They comply. The first-inning scoring update, delayed due to the unexpected triple play, finally posts. After one, the score is 0-0, but once a two- and three-inning scoring update is available, the game will begin to take shape.
Skip ahead to the bottom of the ninth inning. The scoreboard indicates the home team led by three runs through seven innings, but it looked like the visitors had a good performance in the eighth, so depending on what happened in the eighth and the top of the ninth, the home team might need a base hit or they may have already won.
At the plate is the league’s best hitter, H, who always knows the score, and his demeanor suggests he needs a hit, so the crowd reasonably assumes he is correct. B is on second base, and the general consensus is there are two outs. Tension mounts. The only sound is that of the hot-dog fryer behind section 126, which is quickly unplugged when H shouts at the cook.
The pitcher winds up and hurls his best pitch. H takes a vicious hack way too early. He whiffs. Strike three. Game over.
Maybe it’s not so bad for the home team. H seems nonchalant about the strikeout. Is it because he knows his team has already won? Or is it just the way he reacts to failure? The fans clamor for positioning in front of the scoreboard, talking over each other as they rapidly figure the mathematics of the many different scenarios that could determine the result of the game.
The public-address announcer tells the fans to go online in an hour or so for the final result, then reminds the players to stick around in the event of a tie, in which case they will need to play nine more innings after a short break for the head groundskeeper to mow the grass.