Aaron Keith Harris
2007-08-24 07:00:00.0
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BALTIMORE -

Writers like to write about baseball more than other sports. This writer is no different.

There are lots of reasons why, most obviously that the deep history of baseball breeds the nostalgia writers crave for inspiration.

Baseball also fires the imagination like no other game. Because it is played with no time constraints, an infinite number of things can happen before the last out is made.

Only a fantasy writer could have scripted a game in which the last-place Texas Rangers could score 30 runs in one game, something no team had done since the Spanish-American War. But it happened at Camden Yards against the Orioles Wednesday night.

Writers often work at a pace similar to that of a ball game. Ball players stand around a lot with no outward sign of action, and writers spend a lot of time staring at a too-empty screen or doodling in a notebook. Then there’s the quick snap of activity revealing decisions made in the calm.

Character comes through a more clearly in baseball than in other sports. With each player’s face visible, how each player deals with pressure, or what motivates him to play ball becomes visible.

That’s why Little League World Series is a joy to watch. It’s not just the absence of multi-million dollar guaranteed contracts or suddenly filled-out steroid users who taint the integrity of the game.

It’s the thinly-veiled emotion on a boy’s face as he steps into the batter’s box with a determination only seen in children in the pursuit of fun. It’s the bit lip of a gangly pitcher struggling to will his still-growing arm to throw a strike. And it’s the darting glance into the dugout or the stands seeking the approval of Dad, or the coach, sometimes the same person.

But there are still occasions for pure joy in the adult game.

Rick Ankiel, of the St. Louis Cardinals, had a great rookie season as a hard-throwing 20-year-old left-handed starting pitcher in 2000, prompting some to speculate he could be the second coming of Sandy Koufax. But in a playoff game that year, he suddenly lost the ability to do what he did best. Ankiel threw five wild pitches in one inning for no apparent reason. The mind cramp continued the next year, and Ankiel was sent to the minors, where he also began having arm trouble.

In 2005, Ankiel gave up on pitching and picked up a bat and hit his way back to the majors. In his first major league game as an outfielder earlier this month, he crushed a home run, a scene that made even Cardinals-haters laugh and smile.

Cincinnati Reds rookie outfielder Josh Hamilton overcame more tangible problems to make it to the big leagues this year. He was the top draft pick in the country in 1999, just out of high school with skills as awesome as anyone had ever seen.

While in the minors, he was badly hurt in a car accident, then developed a drug habit that got him kicked out of baseball completely. But he got clean in late 2005, and the Reds picked him off the scrap heap.

Hamilton is back where he belongs, his tree-trunk forearms swatting home runs, his size 19 spikes gliding through a green center field.

Ankiel and Hamilton have proved philosopher and Hall of Fame catcher Yogi Berra right. It ain’t over till it’s over.

Aaron Keith Harris writes about politics, the media, pop culture and music and is a regular contributor to National Review Online and Bluegrass Unlimited. He can be reached at aaronkeithharris@gmail.com.