
Some players make the jump from Single A straight to the major leagues, just as Buster Posey did last year and as Brandon Crawford did tonight (hitting a grand slam in his first game as a SF Giant- as much to his effort as to teams having no or minimal scouting reports on the young rookie).
Minor league games are certainly less expensive, offer more in- between inning small town-like participation (fan races, contests to win minor prizes), player access, crazy team names (Savannah Sand Gnats, Toledo Mud Hens, Terre Haute Hottentots and on and on), fans are closer to the field- pay attention or risk getting hit by a foul ball. Everything is closer, ballparks are smaller, the feeling is intimate. Additionally many players just out of high school, college or living in the US for the first time with host families.


Following baseball we find as worthwhile because of the bankroll of emotions that can be spent within the life of a season. The greatness is in the thrills and the agony but having a safety net that it is just a game. No one gets seriously hurt...until they do- and then there is the sudden stop. The fun of the game is lost; too close to life. Real losses in life reverberate. Not what I want in sports. A painful loss today is saved with the promise of tomorrow. However when Buster Posey suffers a broken leg plus torn ligaments- the memory of him writhing and clawing deep into the dirt as if he was trying to prevent falling into an abyss, this game stopped being a game- and tomorrow will not absolve today.

No comments:
Post a Comment