It was very odd being dislocated from TV and the Internet even for four days. That in itself tells you what I loser I have become. When I think of what I was thinking over the last few days, when my concern was to ensure I had some idea of the hotels you could land at unexpectedly over the next five interstate turn-offs, there was plenty I found I did not need to care about – what a talk radio host said or what charges were laid against which politician.
“Dang – shoulda napped”
Baseball, on the other hand, becomes central as AM radio is a perfect medium for that sport and baseball is a perfect sport for that medium. Before the game – for hours before the game – there is much to consider about how a baseball game may play out. For example, knuckleball pitcher Tim Wakefield did not play well yesterday in the Red Sox loss to the Yankees but I had a sense he would not before the game as he was pitching on short rest. I don’t think you can have information about a player like that in any other sport or at least the known is not so well known. It is also complex. Much turned in the early innings on Randy Johnson’s temper. When he was facing bases loaded and his catcher went to talk with him, he was livid. His arrogant confidence and their relationship were important factors in the game. Sadly, he regained his composure and got better as the game went on. Maybe that was also due to him warming up for only seven minutes. That’s a fact. Just seven. Usually starters warm up for twenty. Now I know.
Despite the joy of driving up I-81 with a belly full of hammy turnip greens and grilled haddock listening to A Prairie Home Companion, it was interesting to watch my listening generally move from NPR or talk radio to sports radio, to replace the sort of facts I usually feed myself with sports stats. There is something utterly unimportant about sports stats which are also immersive – maybe it’s their utter unimportance. I think if I was driving along dealing with what was being dealt with and listening to news my brain would have imploded with argument and anger at the vanity, stupidity and selfishness of what is at the core of what passes for news. You can’t argue with baseball. It just has to happen. OK, you can argue that in 2003 Timlin should have gone in an inning earlier. He should have, too, but I still have a point. It also happens at its own pace. A game can be two hours or three and a half. A pitcher’s duel or a slug fest. Despite all you know, you just never know.