I was able to watch two baseball games tonight – though not a doubleheader. The first game I saw was my son’s High School team – Cold Spring Harbor (against Uniondale). This game is a mismatch on paper – Uniondale has almost five times the number of students as Cold Spring Harbor, and CSH is all about Lacrosse (a sport I don’t get for the life of me.) High school baseball is such a joy to watch. There’s no concern about money spoiling the atmosphere of the game. They play well enough that it’s “real baseball” – with the added rooting interest of “Hey that’s my son on second base!” More on the game later.
The second game I am glad to say that I was able to watch was the Mets against the Miami Marlins. David Peterson took the mound against a really underrated Marlins team. Peterson battled the entire game – without his best stuff. He left after for giving up one run on five innings. It was a gutty performance.
One thing about the game that really stuck out: the pitch clock has been like a light switch. The major league baseball game is much faster. By 8:30 p.m. it was the bottom of the seventh. The last three innings should be slower because the game is on the line, but when the beginning part of the game flies by the experience is so much more enjoyable. The Mets’ bats are still struggling after seven innings.
Back to the high school game. I made mention to the other parents at the game that baseball is wonderful for so many reasons – but the one that made the most impression on me today was this; the anticipation of the pitch. At a high school game with a less than a few of dozen spectators on each side you can hear every sound, every word of encouragement, every groan at a close pitch the outside corner. But everything goes quiet just before the pitch. Just as the pitcher lifts his leg up off the mound and strides toward the plate, you can feel the silence – as though everyone has been instructed to breathe in. Then – just as suddenly – as the pitch crosses the plane – the noise returns.
Cold Spring Harbor was victorious against Uniondale. It was a 6 – 2 victory. On a fly ball to left and a throw home to get the runner at the plate – a double play – the CSH defense kept the score close in the third. Then Cold Spring Harbor scored four runs in the top of the fourth to break the game open. (My son put down a beautiful bunt to move runners to second and third, both of whom scored. Selfless players make good teams better.)
I should also mention that there was a spectator at the game – a real gentleman – who sat near where I was sitting. He was rooting for Uniondale, so it was odd that he was positioned on the CSH side of the field. He cheered after almost every pitch. His words were encouraging and positive. I’m not entirely sure he had any rooting interest other than that he was from the neighborhood. Even though he was rooting for the other team, I spoke with him after the game was over and thanked him for his participation in an enjoyable experience with other baseball fans.
Two hours and nine minutes. That’s all it took to play tonight‘s Mets game. Granted there was virtually no offense. All three runs were scored on long fly balls. It was a great defensive game by both teams. Baseball is better when it is played crisply. When this baseball year is over and the statisticians compile the numbers, it’s likely that every part of the game will be better. I have almost nothing nice to say about Rob Manfred, but fair is fair: the pitch clock is a wonderful innovation.
The Mets lost on a Jazz Chisholm home run in the bottom of the eighth. Pete Alonso’s homer in the 9th put the Mets within a run. The rally came up short.
Two baseball games from 5 PM to 9 PM: one at the highest level and the other at its purest form. What a joyful way to spend a Friday evening!
Nice diary!