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Aaah–The Game Returns

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on March 27, 2025| 2 Comments »

Casey at the Bat– Sean Kane

Baseball is the most perfect of games, solid, true, pure and precious as diamonds. If only life were so simple. Within the baselines anything can happen. Tides can reverse; oceans can open. That’s why they say, “the game is never over until the last man is out.” Colors can change, lives can alter, anything is possible in this gentle, flawless, loving game.

—W. P. Kinsella, Shoeless Joe (1982)

If you can take away anything from the passage above from Shoeless Joe, the book from W.P. Kinsella that was later adapted as the film Field of Dreams, I hope it is the sense of hope and possibility that exists in the game of baseball. Even when things look bleak, as he writes, anything is possible until the last man is out. To see your team flounder and stumble through the early innings of game only to somehow get it together and rebound to win in the final inning is one of the great thrills of the game. Americans love a great comeback. And in this country right now, that sense of the hope and possibility of a comeback is needed more than ever.  

I think that’s why today’s Opening Day for Major League Baseball takes on more weight than in many previous years.  It marks a return to some form of normalcy, a bond to our collective past, one of the few that seems immune to the historical erasure taking place.

I am replaying a post that was written for the beginning of spring training in 2019. It pretty much sums up with the feeling and need for the game in stressful times that I described above. Plus, I get to show off the terrific painted baseball gloves of Sean Kane again. I have also added an ethereal performance of Take Me Out to the Ballgame from Harpo Marx on the I Love Lucy show from May of 1955. It thrills me each time I hear him play this.

[From 2019]

The feeling is in the air again and brings back sensory memories. Green grass smell. Bright sun light and brown earth. The vocal patter of the players. The plunk of a ball entering a mitt. The sound of bat on ball, sometimes a dull thunk and sometimes a resounding crack that makes you turn your head to see the flight of the ball.

And the path of that hard hit ball in the air is sometimes a majestic arc that immediately ignites a sense of wonder and a brief glimpse of some innate understanding of physics that evades us at all other times.

Aaah, baseball has returned.

First spring training games start today and to be honest, I am a little more giddy than normal this year. It just feels like we need the game to be bigger and even more transcendent in these times. It needs to be a balm, a healing agent for what ails us. As a longtime symbolic shadow of this country, the game has served that purpose in the past and I have hopes it can do so again.

So, play ball. Please.

I am showing some of the work of Sean Kane, an artist who works painting baseball gloves, especially those beautiful vintage gloves that seem like little more than fat work gloves. If you’ve ever tried to play with one of those, you have greater appreciation for the players of earlier days and what they could do with those gloves.

Anyway, I saw his work and was immediately smitten. Just gorgeous stuff, especially for those of us with a soft spot for the history of the game. One of my favorites is the one from the Cuban player Martin Dihigo who played his career in the Negro Leagues and other leagues in Latin America.

And that Jackie Robinson glove, inside and out, and the Casey at the Bat triptych at the top are both masterpieces! Grand slams!

You can see much more of his work at his site,  Sean Kane Baseball Art, by clicking here.

Play ball!

Sean Kane- Martin Dihigo Glove

 

Sean Kane- Jackie Robinson Glove Outside View

Sean Kane- Jackie Robinson Glove Inside View

Sean Kane- “Say Hey” Willie Mays Glove

Sean Kane- Babe Ruth Glove

Sean Kane- Shoeless Joe Jackson Glove

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The Hurrah Game

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on October 20, 2024| 6 Comments »

GC Myers- Deep Right Field

Deep Right Field- At Principle Gallery

I said: “Baseball is the hurrah game of the republic!” He was hilarious: “That’s beautiful: the hurrah game! well — it’s our game: that’s the chief fact in connection with it: America’s game: has the snap, go fling, of the American atmosphere — belongs as much to our institutions, fits into them as significantly, as our constitutions, laws: is just as important in the sum total of our historic life.”

–Horace Traubel, conversation with Walt Whitman (4 July 1889)

I wrote recently about the anxiety I have been experiencing from my concerns over the upcoming election and its implications. One would think a good way to alleviate the stress would be to divert one’s attention somehow, maybe watching a leisurely game of baseball.

One would be wrong.

The NY Yankees defeated the feisty Cleveland Guardians last night to move on to this year’s World Series, winning four of five games in the best of seven series. That is kind of misleading, making it sound like they had an easy time with the Guardians.

It was anything but that.

After winning the first two games in New York, the series moved to Cleveland for the next three games. Each of the three games there were absolute classics. Two were decided in the 10th inning, including last night when Juan Soto hit a decisive three-run homer for the Yankees to drop the final curtain on the Guardian’s season.

Each game was tight and stressful, the outcome of each coming as the result of one or two plays. A great pitch. A bobbled ball. A long and loud home run. The Guardians could have easily won all three. They certainly deserved to win. The stress of watching these last three games was extreme. I took to doomscrolling political posts on social media during the games– it produced less angst!

But in the end, the Yankees prevailed, much to the dismay of Guardians fans and Yankee-haters everywhere. You might think that I’d be happy. I am, of course. However, now the next two weeks will have the stress of what promises to be a very difficult World Series stacked on top of the gut churning anxiety of the election.

I don’t know if my gut can take it. I can only hope that in a little over two weeks that I will be able to celebrate, one way or another. It might be sacrilege to other Yankee fans, but I would easily trade a World Series victory for the Yanks for an abject beatdown at the ballot box for that other New Yorker.

Though a humiliating loss for him and a Yankee victory would be the best hurrah of all.

Okay. For this week’s Sunday Morning Music selection, I am going for some real stress relief. This is one of my favorite compositions, Gymnopédie #1, from Erik Satie. I may have to listen to it a lot over the next couple of weeks…

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Aah, The Game Returns

Posted in Biographical, Favorite Things, Influences, Music, Quote, tagged , , , , , on February 18, 2021| Leave a Comment »

I’m helplessly and permanently a Red Sox fan. It was like first love…You never forget. It’s special. It’s the first time I saw a ballpark. I’d thought nothing would ever replace cricket. Wow! Fenway Park at 7 o’clock in the evening. Oh, just, magic beyond magic: never got over that.

― Simon Schama

Maybe it takes the words of an esteemed British historian like Simon Schama to best describe the grand attraction of a ballpark when first seen in the waning light of the day, with the lights making the green grass and bright white chalk lines of the field pop into your eyes. I remember that feeling at Shea Stadium in the late 60’s, going up the darkened ramp from the concourse to the stands, emerging into a burst of deep colors and lights along with the buzz of the crowd increasing with each step forward.

It was magic beyond magic.

Baseball is back this week, with Spring Training beginning. For me, baseball is the canary in the coalmine. It felt odd and out of place last year with a raging pandemic and the country ripped apart by culture wars and the political apocalypse of an election that felt as existential as any we have had in recent times. Baseball was still there in a weird bubble that took away much of what made it important as a cultural touchstone.

It felt sporadic and detached.

Like most of us.

But it is coming back, as it always has each February, and with it comes the hope that we are nearing a point where we can sometime soon return to a form of normalcy. Where kids can experience that burst of color and light for themselves, can root loudly for slick fielding infielders and hard hitting sluggers. Where old farts like me can revel in the cyclical nature and routine of the game along with its esoteric details, its poetry, and its history. That

Author Michael Chabon, in his book Summerland, put words to my own feelings the game and how it echoes and rhymes with day to day life:

 The first and last duty of the lover of the game of baseball,” Peavine’s book began, “whether in the stands or on the field, is the same as that of the lover of life itself: to pay attention to it.

I have had trouble immersing myself in spectator sports this past year with all that is happening. But the start of Spring Training offers renewed hope. And that hope is a big part of the game. While personal glory and team victory are the goal, baseball is a game about how one copes with failure. It is a game of humility. The greatest players of all time failed more than they succeeded and most players go through their careers without winning the World Series. 

The hope is that if you give it your best effort, this pitch might be the big pitch or this catch will be the big catch. This hit might be the big hit.

This year might be the year.

It is a grand metaphor for the hardship and grace of life that repeats itself 162 times a year. Like life, it offers us everything if only we pay attention.

Pay attention and have a good day.

Here’s a favorite baseball tune from Mabel Scott to kick off the season:

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Homer

Posted in Opinion, tagged , , , , on August 25, 2020| 10 Comments »

I’ve been editing the video of my Virtual Gallery Talk over the last day or so, cutting away some of the rougher sections. I am not an experienced film editor so it’s going slow. Plus, it takes time because it’s so painful to watch myself on the recording that I can’t do it for too long at once. But there should be a version available within a day or so on YouTube, if you’re interested.

The first will just have the beginning monologue. The second will be more complete, with a look at some of the work in the show at the West End Gallery and the questions put to me by the participants.

Because the viewer knew that we shared a love for baseball, he posed a questions that had to do with a piece of public art from artist Red Grooms that resides beyond the centerfield fence at Marlins Stadium in Miami. Called Homer, it’s an epic piece, 73 feet tall, comprised of colorful rainbows,  flamingos, swaying palm trees, and marlins jumping from the waves. It even goes into motion with water a-gushing whenever a Marlins player hits a home run.

It’s a pretty gaudy piece with it cartoon-like imagery and bright colors, which are a Grooms trademark. As a result, it has become somewhat controversial. People seem to either love it or hate it. I was asked for my thoughts on it.

Hey, if I were in the ballpark, I would love it. Why not? It’s loud and celebratory. It’s fun. It serves its purpose ideally. Nobody goes to the ballpark to see Botticelli paintings or Rodin sculptures, as enticing as it might be to see a homer dinging off The Thinker.

Would I want it in my front yard?

Nah.

Art serves different purposes in different settings. Epic public pieces can seldom speak in intimate terms though there are certainly those that do. The sitting Lincoln at his Memorial, for instance, has a feeling that is inward and seems to reach out to the viewer in personal terms.

As powerful as it is, I don’t want that in my yard either.

Or out in centerfield. Though I hear Lincoln was a helluva fielder.

All glove, no bat, as they say.

To sum up, Homer is the art it is meant to be. Have fun with it. It’s baseball!

Thanks, for the question, Dave.

Here’s Mabel Scott with her wonderful Baseball Boogie.

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Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Posted in Biographical, Favorite Things, tagged , , , , on February 15, 2020| 2 Comments »

The Classic Bob Gibson Followthrough

This is an edited version of a blog entry from way back in 2009:

It’s that time of the year.

Catchers and pitchers are reporting to spring training. Baseball is in the air. Is there any better time of the year?

Baseball has always held a special place for me. Oh, I was no more than an average player– decent bat, lousy arm and a so-so glove– but there was pure magic in seeing the heroes of my youth and hearing the stories of the early legends of the game.

I remember my grandmother telling me of going with my grandfather to New York City on their honeymoon in 1921 and seeing Babe Ruth play with the Yankees. Ruth hit a double and a triple as she recalled.

I remember sitting with my grandfather, the mythological Shank, so called for the holds he would apply to his opponent’s legs during his time as a professional wrestler, and watching the World Series in the afternoons of 1968. I had my tonsils out and was still recuperating and we watched the St. Louis Cardinals play the Detroit Tigers, who won the series. It was great watching with my grandfather plus I was introduced a player who became one of the heroes of my youth, Bob Gibson, the Cardinal’s pitching ace.

Gibby was it for me. The toughest guy out there, one whose competitive fire was, and is, legendary. So dominating as a pitcher that baseball changed the mound height because they felt the hitters needed help since he was practically unhittable. I read his early autobiography, From Ghetto to Glory, numerous times as a kid and that made him an even bigger hero to me. He was eloquent and college-educated, a rarity for ballplayers of that era, and his story was compelling, going from abject poverty onto college then a stint with the Harlem Globetrotters then on to baseball stardom.

He remains a hero.

Baseball was always played at our house. My dad was a pretty fair pitcher who had promise as a youth. In subsequent years, I have uncovered numerous news stories in old newspapers about his exploits on the mound and in the field. But later, as a dad, he would occasionally play catch with me and my friends. Eventually, he would break out his knuckleball, a pitch he was known for in his younger days. It was practically uncatchable, having a spectacular drop that would appear to be entering your glove only to end up hitting you in the stomach. Or lower. I was never able to master the pitch but still appreciate the awkward grace and dance of a well thrown knuckler.

Other times, I would pitch to him and he would hit flies to my brother in the outfield. Periodically, he would hit hard liners back at me. They would bang off me or make me dive out of the way and he would cackle. I would then try to drill him with the next pitch, which would make him laugh even more because he had gotten my goat.

I would calm myself and wait until he would pitch to me, waiting for the perfect pitch when I could send a hard line drive back at him, making him duck or dive. At such times, after having to jump out of the way or  defend himself with his glove, he would yell out a Hey! and give me a harsh look. Then he would usually laugh because he knew that I was just paying him back for his earlier actions. Payback was just part of the game.

Even my work has been somewhat affected by my experiences with the game. I remember the first time coming out of tunnel during a night game at Shea Stadium in the late 1960’s and seeing the field spread out before me. I was stunned by the colors that were so rich and lush under the warmth of the lights. It was a feeling that I think I wanted to replicate in some manner which ultimately led me to art.

Over the years baseball has become my calendar for the passing of the year and is a comforting friend on the days when the world seems ready to implode. I am still captive to the numbers and legends of baseball, one of those romantics who see poetry in a game based in tradition.

To that end, here is a wonderful version of Take Me Out to the Ballgame from Harpo Marx, played on I Love Lucy. It is delicate and graceful.  It’s the essence of the memory of baseball for me…

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Baseball and Karma

Posted in Current Events, Event, Favorite Things, tagged , , on October 31, 2019| Leave a Comment »

Game 7 of the World Series last night.

What was there not to like?

For me, the shocking victory by the underdog Washington Nationals over the Houston Astros seemed like the universe was setting things right in a karmic sense.

The Nationals, the oldest team in major league baseball with the youngest superstar in Juan Soto, made an improbable run through the later part of the regular season and into the playoffs, becoming the first team to win all of their World Series victories on their opponent’s home field. That in itself goes against all the odds.

Just like the odds in May from the bookmakers in Las Vegas that had the Nationals chances of winning the series as 1.5%.

Maybe it was a gift from karma for them getting rid of Bryce Harper?

Or maybe it was a nod from karma for the Nationals crowd loudly booing the president* both at his appearance in game 5 and at a viewing party at Nationals Park in the rain last night?

I believe that was just a case of the crowd adhering to the old baseball adage that says: I calls ’em like I sees ’em.

And they got that call right.

Or maybe the karma came in the fact that the pitcher who got the final three outs was the Nationals’ Daniel Hudson and not Robert Osuna, the controversial Astros closer.

Hudson missed an earlier playoff game so that he could be with his wife as she gave birth and Osuna was arrested last year for domestic violence for beating the mother of his child. He was passed over by a number of teams but the Astros picked him up.

But the karma payback might have come in response to the Astros’ earlier defense of one of their executives, Brandon Taubman, who, in the clubhouse after the Astros won the American League pennant, taunted some female reporters, one who had written about domestic violence in sports, with an expletive filled rant that invoked Osuna’s name. The Astros’ management at first defended Taubman and said that it was totally misrepresented in the public accounts. But the Astros were later forced, after several witnesses to the event came forward, that they had been wrong and fired Taubman.

That might have been too late for the Astros– karma was already in motion.

My faith in humanity might not be fully restored yet but my faith in baseball and karma certainly has returned. It makes me believe that karma is now ready to move on from baseball and clear up some other pressing matters.

And it’s coming with a heavy hammer…

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Aaah, Baseball Returns

Posted in Favorite Things, Neat Stuff, tagged , , on February 22, 2019| Leave a Comment »

Casey at the Bat- Sean Kane

The feeling is in the air again and brings back sensory memories. Green grass smell. Bright sun light and brown earth. The vocal patter of the players. The plunk of a ball entering a mitt. The sound of bat on ball, sometimes a dull thunk and sometimes a resounding crack that makes you turn your head to see the flight of the ball.

And the path of that hard hit ball in the air is sometimes a majestic arc that immediately ignites a sense of wonder and a brief glimpse of some innate understanding that evades us at all other times.

Aaah, baseball has returned.

First spring training games start today and to be honest, I am a little more giddy than normal this year. It just feels like we need the game to be bigger and even more transcendent in these times. It needs to be a balm, a healing agent for what ails us. As a longtime symbolic shadow of this country, the game has served that purpose in the past and I have hopes it can do so again.

So, play ball. Please.

I am showing some of the work of Sean Kane, an artist who works painting baseball gloves, especially those beautiful vintage gloves that seem like little more than fat work gloves. If you’ve ever tried to play with one of those, you have greater appreciation for the players of earlier days and what they could do with those gloves.

Anyway, I saw his work and was immediately smitten. Just gorgeous stuff,especially for those of us with a soft spot for the history of the game. One of my favorites is the one from the Cuban player Martin Dihigo who played his career in the Negro Leagues and other leagues in Latin America.

And that Jackie Robinson glove, inside and out, and the Casey at the Bat triptych at the top are both masterpieces! Grand slams!

You can see much more of his work at his site,  Sean Kane Baseball Art, by clicking here.

Play ball!

Sean Kane- Martin Dihigo Glove

Sean Kane- Jackie Robinson Glove Outside View

Sean Kane- Jackie Robinson Glove Inside View

Sean Kane- “Say Hey” Willie Mays Glove

Sean Kane- Babe Ruth Glove

Sean Kane- Shoeless Joe Jackson Glove

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Mo in the HOF

Posted in Favorite Things, tagged , , on January 23, 2019| 3 Comments »

Yesterday one of my all-time favorite baseball players, Mariano Rivera, was elected to the the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. He was the first player in the history of a hall of fame filled with legendary names to be elected unanimously. Every one of the voters recognized his ability and respected all that he contributed to the game. His stoic, respectful dominance is the ideal for lovers of the game. I know I sure miss seeing his number 42 running out of the outfield towards the mound. Here’s a post about Mo from back in 2011.

****************

I am a big fan of baseball. I classify myself as a Yankees fan currently but, though I revel in the rich history of the organization with names like Babe Ruth,Lou Gehrig, Joe Dimaggio, Yogi Berra, Mickey Mantle and on and on, it is the group of players that started their current run of success that made me fans of this team. Bernie Williams, Jose Posada, Andy Pettitte and, of course, Derek Jeter were constants over the last 15 years. All played significant roles in the restoring the Yankees to the top of the baseball heap.

But any fan who cares a lick about baseball knows that much of their success is due to one player, a rail thin man from Panama with the name Mariano Rivera, known to fans simply as Mo. Today he stands as the all-time leader in saves, meaning he is the pitcher who comes in at the ends of games when the outcome is in the balance and shuts down the threat from the other team. He is the closer, the most demanding position  in the game so far as absolute consistency is concerned. He either preserves the win or loses the game. No excuses accepted.

No one has been as consistent in protecting the lead for wins as Mo for the past 15 years, a remarkable time for a position where the strain and stress usually drains most closers after 7 or 8 years. Yankee fans have long felt the welcome comfort that comes with seeing number 42 come jogging through the outfield from the bullpen to enter the game. Even that number 42 is special.  Mariano will be the last player to wear the number since he is the last active player who was wearing number 42 at the time when Major League Baseball retired the number to honor Jackie Robinson.

Greener Pastures: 42

It’s hard to explain to non-baseball fans what Mo has meant to the Yankees and to baseball in general. He has carried himself for these years with great modesty and dignity, never showing up an opponent. On the mound, he has the appearance of the old gunfighter in the movie westerns of years gone by– wary but calm and collected, knowing that he must control his emotions to do what he must do. When the game is over, there are no histrionics, no yelling or posing or excessive fistpumps. He expects his success and usually flashes a small and sometimes sheepish grin as his teammates congratulate him.

It’s an attitude that has won him great respect around the game. Yesterday, when he broke the record, the Minnesota Twins, who came up short against Mo in this game, stayed after the game and gathered on the dugout steps to join the Yankee faithful in applauding the embarrassed star as he stood alone on the field. Even diehard Red Sox fans, who boo Jeter like he killed their mother, often give Mo a hearty cheer when he is announced at post-season or All Star games. [Note: When Mo retired in 2013, Red Sox fans gave him a long and loud standing ovation on his last appearance at Fenway]

He is a man of respect, both giving and receiving, a quality that hopefully will rub off on younger players.

Mo’s 41 years old and when he takes off his cap his scalp is bald now. He shows his age a bit but still performs at the highest level. As a fan I know there will not be many more times when number 42 calms the anxious Yankee fans as he jogs across the outfield toward the mound. I relish every appearance now, knowing that I am watching a legend, a player who will be talked about in the same breath with Ruth and Gehrig.

Deservedly so.

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Everybody Loves the Long Ball

Posted in Current Events, Favorite Things, Music, Quote, tagged , , , , , on March 30, 2018| Leave a Comment »

Three Base Hit- James Daugherty 1917

+++++++++++++

Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona. Not all holes, or games, are created equal.

—George Will

+++++++++++++

Opening day yesterday and baseball is off and running. This whole damn place might seem ready to go up in flames any minute now but for a few hours every day or so, all seems right in the world. Hey, baseball even gives me a place to find common ground with George Will.

For a Yankees fan, yesterday’s opening day was all that could they could hope for as Giancarlo Stanton, one half of their Twin Towers along with Aaron Judge, quickly put to rest any fears that he would wither under the pressure of playing for the Yanks. In the first inning, on the second pitch he saw, he crushed a home run to right center. Then he bookended the day with an even longer blast to center in the ninth as the Yanks cruised to the win.

And I had a great day in the studio, to boot.

And all was right in the world for a few hours.

Here’s a song I played here a couple of years back, one of my favorite baseball songs. It’s Baseball Boogie from Mabel Scott. Batter up!

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Here Comes the Judge

Posted in Favorite Things, tagged , , , , , on June 12, 2017| 4 Comments »

Part of the charm of baseball for me are its mythic elements, the stories that captured my imagination as a kid.  For instance, Babe Ruth allegedly pointing to the centerfield fence to call his home run. Or Satchel Paige supposedly throwing strikes using a single gum wrapper laid on home plate as the strike zone.  Willie Mays’ fabled but very real over the shoulder catch. And Jackie Robinson stealing home in the World Series. Too many more to mention here.

This year has brought a player who may enter into that pantheon of mythic baseball lore.  Rookie Aaron Judge of the Yankees combines a physique that seems right out of tall tales with Paul Bunyan size and strength. He’s 6′ 8″ tall and weighs in the 275 pound range, the largest player by sheer body mass to ever play the game. But it is not a lumbering, heavy mass.  He is athletic and quick with a powerful and accurate throwing arm.

But it is his potent bat that has made him the big news of NY and the rest of the major leagues. He leads the American League in home runs, runs batted in, runs, batting average and walks.

All are amazing stats but it is the way in which he strikes his homers that has thrilled the crowds and made his every at bat must see viewing. His pregame batting practices are already legendary with balls flying to the deepest parts of the park where they have scattered bartenders and shattered television screens. The excitement has people coming to the games wearing costume powdered wigs and he even has a section of the stands named in his honor– the Judge’s Chambers.

He hits the ball with incredible power and the crack of the bat is startlingly sharp, with a thunderclap to it unlike almost any other player. His home runs leave the park at ultra high velocity and go ridiculous distances. Yesterday, he hit a ball at Yankee Stadium close to 500 foot that had the other players as well as the announcers in sheer awe.  He is simply hitting balls to places where they have never been hit before, even in batting practice. As Paul O’Neill said, it’s like he’s a big man playing in a Little League field.

I have to say that he has ignited that excitement in the game that I had as a kid where every game, every at bat has the possibility of the amazing or the transcendent taking place. Something that would tie your experience of it to the great myths of the game.

Now, the realistic part of me, that awful adult part, knows that the odds are that someday soon this torrid pace may slow and he will return to the ranks of the merely good ball players. Baseball is a humbling game for players and fans alike. But for know, Aaron Judge is playing the game like he’s in a comic book, like he’s King Kong swinging Thor’s Hammer at the plate. And that makes this middle-aged boy very happy. It’s a great diversion away from these troubling times.

Whenever he comes to the plate, I always think of this song from the 60’s. It was a minor hit in 1968 from Motown’s Shorty Long, who died the following year in a boating accident. I was just a kid at the time, idolizing Cardinal pitcher Bob Gibson, himself a mythic character, but I remember this song well. Can’t go wrong here, Motown soul with the Funk Brothers laying down a great backing track. Courts in session, here come the Judge…

 

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