Baseball Symposium

by Jeremy Beer on April 1, 2009 · 8 comments <span>Print this article</span> Print this article

in Culture, High & Low,Short

John Miller asked me to write on why I love the Diamondbacks. Twenty-nine others pitch in on the rest of the league, if you’re interested, including my friends Darryl Hart and Jeff Cain, to pick two entries that are especially worth reading.

No matter how much the owners, players, idiot commissioner, and drug-pushing trainers attempt to ruin the game, I still look forward to opening day with boyish enthusiasm. I was able to catch three spring-training games this year (the same rule holds in the Cactus League as in the majors: the older the park, the better), I’ll be at the D-backs’ opener on Monday, and I’ll have a baseball-related post for FPR that same day.  ‘Tis a wonderful time of year.

If I were Kauffman, I’d add a stanza from a baseball poem here. Bill?

{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }

avatar Caleb Stegall April 3, 2009 at 11:45 am

I don’t know who Matt Pozel is, but he’s no Royals fan, I can vouch for that. Business and Science!? Pshaw. Give me tobacco and pine tar and another good reason to hate New York!

avatar Marty April 4, 2009 at 6:30 am

I love the Brooklyn Cyclones. It helps that I can afford to take my son to a game there and throw in a hot dog.

This year we hope to take the NY Penn League Championship back from the reigning champs Batavia Muckdogs. Front Porch Champs!

We’re coming for you Bill!

avatar Bill Kauffman April 4, 2009 at 4:11 pm

Sorry, Marty. The trophy stays here.
As for poesy, JB, I like Gene Fehler’s “My Dad Taught Me,” which we read as part of Batavia’s infamous Baseball Poetry Night. It goes:

My Dad Taught Me

Before my dad left
he taught me how
to hold my bat
away from my body
when I swing
and how to let the ball
spin off my fingertips
when I throw
and how to oil my glove
and wrap string around it
with a ball inside
so when I sleep
the pocket will remember
the ball just as clearly
as I remember
my dad’s face.

(From Dancing on the Basepaths, McFarland, 2001)

Oh, and lest I forget: To hell with the majors; Long live the minors and the sandlots!

avatar Marty April 5, 2009 at 11:14 am


My son has been sleeping with his ball in glove under his pillow, this last week. Yesterday, we had our little league parade.

Each dad must do work on the fieled as part of the registration. So, I cleaned puddles out of the infield yesterday.

Today was opening day. My son went three for four and ran to first instead of third. So much progress in one year.

A very Front Porchy weekend!

avatar Nathan P. Origer April 6, 2009 at 8:09 am


Congratulations! I’m twenty-five and I still run to third half the time.

As much as I sympathize with Bills “To hell with the majors” attitude, Go Cubs! This will, I’m sure, finally be our cheer. (But don’t expect me to hold my breath.)

avatar Margaret Perry April 6, 2009 at 10:45 am

J: excellent! Yours was my favorite, besides the 9th grader who loves the Blue Jays. You need a story like that to love the Blue Jays…

avatar Jason Peters April 7, 2009 at 8:30 am

I grew up listening to Paul Kerry and Ernie Harwell call the Tigers on WJR AM 76. But I haven’t seen the Tigers since they left Tiger (nee Briggs) stadium and I don’t intend to drop a dime in Comerica Park–ever.

Here in the Quad Cities we’ve got the River Bandits to keep us, by turns, elated and miserable. My elder son and I walk the Centennial bridge over the Mississippi river to the ball park in Davenport, IA, where I can count on him to jump up unexpectedly and spill my beer. We’re often treated to spectacular fireworks over the river. They’re awesome–if you can tune out Lee Greenwood on the loud speakers.

avatar Jeff July 21, 2009 at 12:05 pm

Paul Carey.

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