For Linda Gebroe, the magic of baseball isn’t just in the game, but also in the way we talk about it.
The San Francisco Giants are a quarter of the way through their season now, giving us fans much to ponder. It’s a drag that many of our starting players are currently injured. Yet their eager replacements are filling in quite capably. The team’s not in first place, but neither is it in last. How will the rest of the season go?
There’s another aspect of the game I ponder as well, and that is its language. While other fans cheer the blitz in football and the slam dunk of basketball, we baseball aficionados root, root, root for our players to be safe at home. Imagine this scenario: Giants batter Matt Chapman hits a well-placed single down the left field line. The runner at second base, Luis Matos, takes off and heads for home. The Dodgers right fielder makes a long throw to his catcher, but Matos slides in under the tag. He is safe at home. And we fans could not be happier.
Aside from the delight that arises when our player scores, there is for me a primal appreciation that the term, “safe at home” elicits. I mean, feeling safe is pretty wonderful, especially if you’ve ever felt unsafe anywhere. But feeling safe at home? That’s got to be the best.
There are plenty of other baseball terms with bigger life meanings as well. Take “defensive indifference,” when the catcher holds onto the ball rather than trying to throw the opposing runner out. In real life, knowing when to hold can prevent many a situation from escalating. And then there is the term “soft hands,” meaning a player’s ability to cradle the ball well in his glove. Need I explain what soft hands mean to us mere mortals?