A couple of nights ago a friend and I were sort of watching the Rangers/Flyers game. We had a debate that went roughly like this:
Me: Zmg, this is so boring. How can you watch this? Everyone over to this side! Now everyone over to that side! 500 times! Same thing with basketball. At least in basketball the last 60 seconds get interesting, if you're lucky.
Him: I can't believe you think this is more boring than BASEBALL. It takes forever and NOTHING EVER HAPPENS.
[repeat x3]
We're both right and wrong in our own ways, of course. But that got me thinking very specifically about why I so love to watch and follow baseball. Besides the more obvious stuff like the constant strategic maneuvering (my favorites being the changes in pitch-to-pitch selection depending on so many variables - who's on base, where, how many outs there are; whether to steal, or to hit-and-run [Keith Hernandez wrote an entire {irritatingly-toned, but engrossing} several-hundred-page book on the latter topic which, by his own admission therein, only scratched the surface of this very minor & relatively rare element of the game]; relief; and possibly best of all, defensive intrigue - bringing in the infield, the shift, deking baserunners, looking them back, cutoffs, second cutoffs, backing up the plate - too little attention is given to this aspect of the game by commentators and tv directors for my taste, and being able to observe these shenanigans is one of the main reasons I love to go to games; switching up signs mid-game) - probably what I love next most are the intimate details that...
...don't let you forget they're humans: the joyous abandon of dogpiling that looks exactly the same as if they were kids, the enemy chitchat on the bases, the occasional bizarro hilarious brainfart-type defensive or baserunning error, the traditional practical jokes [ignoring a pitcher carrying a no-hitter or perfect game, or my favorite, not acknowledging a rookie's first hr]);
...or, conversely, demonstrate the blithe casualness of (most) players toward their own extreme giftedness and excellence: the double-play-turning 2B sailing over the oncoming runner, oblivious to both gravity and the runner's murderous intent (such an every-game occurrence that it's hard to appreciate the precision timing, quick thinking, nimbleness and just sheer fast-twitch power that I can only assume are necessary to pull it off); or the impossible smoothness and seeming effortlessness of many players' HR swings, and, on the other side, the way the pitcher knows - it seems almost before contact is even made - that the ball is gone- they don't even have to look, they just look down at the ground (as a spatial-reasoning-challenged person, to me there's something thrilling and awe-inspiring about that level of no-look depth perceptiveness).