BaseballMarch 24, 2009 at 8:19 am | Posted in Herman the Soothsayer | Leave a comment
Baseball is the apotheosis of erotic dance and bloodthirsty battle; it is heaven on earth and earth on heaven; it is both timeless and, in a more accurate way, not really timeless; it is the epsilon, the upsilon, and the downsilon; it is four weddings AND a funeral; it is Hercule Poirot and Columbo; it is Chevrolet and Peugeot; it is American and European football; it is Coke and Pepsi, but never low-rent colas like Shasta or A-Treat or Frank’s, unless maybe it is Frank’s flavored Grape soda, which I think I remember as being pretty good; it is the captain of the basketball team and the foreign exchange student who seems a little off; it is an epic poem and the feature article of a TV Guide; it is fathers, sons, uncles, second cousins, and the deadbeat roommate of your ex-brother-in-law; it knows all, sees all, forgets all, tries to remember all, especially where it put its keys; it is hyperbolic understatement and other poorly constructed idioms; it is the rising of the sun and the fiery explosion of the moon; it is east and it is also slightly further east; it is better than the last movie I saw but not quite as good as the one I’m going to see next week; it is the finest Black Sea caviar and the half-eaten three week old baloney sandwich I found under my seat at the airport that I ate instead of buying overpriced Big Macs from the concession areas; it is an iPod with a failing hard drive and a record player with a missing needle; it is a sink full of dirty dishes and the scullery maid who would clean them if there were any such thing as scullery maids any more; it is the best Uzbeki Arabic novel I have ever read but also turns out, in translation, to be the worst English instruction manual for a DVD player I have ever seen; it is the beginning of the middle, the middle of the end, and the end of the beginning; it sets fire to row homes, and no one knows why it does this awful thing; it is always fair, unless it is drunk and is in the mood to settle old scores.
To summarize, baseball murdered my father over some stupid gambling debt. That’s why I hate baseball. – Herman the Soothsayer.