It’s so easy, when you read and write a lot about baseball as opposed to merely watch it from time to time, to get caught up in the business of baseball. The trade and free agency dynamics. The artificial or semi-artificial storylines that are created about what happens on and off the field. To think in terms of trend lines, streaks, marketability, clubhouse dynamics, rebuilding plans, contracts, statistics, playoff possibilities and all manner of things future and past that are not the game itself.
What gets discussed so little is the moment. The moment when the batter makes the split decision to take that extra base. The moment when an outfielder breaks to his left because he ascertained its trajectory before anyone else in the park did. The moment when pitcher and catcher silently agreed that there is no way in hell that the batter can either expect or adjust to this particular pitch in this particular spot.
We see these moments as we watch the game and they give us a thrill. But there’s not much to say about them afterward other than “wow! did you see that?” And because post-facto description and analysis tends to serve only to diminish the moment — no sports writer, however skilled he is, can write as beautifully as a ballplayer at the height of his powers can perform — those moments tend to recede in the 21 hours a day when the baseball game is not actually occurring.
Yesterday Ted Berg, using Jose Reyes as his example, made a powerful argument in favor of savoring these moments and allowing them to stand on their own without any of the buzz and chatter that surrounds them. I’ll say no more about it, but I will implore you, if you have a few moments, to read it.