Baseball, the Goddess, and Me

[Cal Godot]

If baseball were an ancient sport, I might be tempted to go along with this
goddess-inspired interpretation of the mound's centrality/significance. But
when the light of facts hit, shadows scurry: the origin of the mound is
commonly known among pitchers.

In order to fling the ball over sixty feet and six inches, into the strike
zone of a batter, one *must* be elevated a bit. The ball must by necessity
drop a bit (I could give you the physical formula, if you like) from the
pitcher's grip to the plate. Somewhere back in the cloudy past, some wise
fellas elevated the pitcher a bit to ensure more accurate pitching.
Previous to this, pitchers tossed the bean from a flat position roughly
even to that of the batter (discounting the natural contours of the field),
making an accurate pitch difficult. They were closer than they are
nowadays, but it was still a toughie.

Up close & personal, the strike zone may look spacious. But from 60'6"
away, it looks terribly tiny. And the pitcher must not only throw the ball
through the strike zone, but put the mojo on it in such a way that the
batter doesn't knock it into the stands. (Believe me: it's almost
impossible to get through the strike zone when you're standing on an even
surface, though Nolan could probably do it.)

Now, I don't want to cast light on goddess-inspired theorizing, but facts
is facts. The mound may have resonance, but it is simply a practical
addition to the infield. The pitcher might just as well be standing on a
couple of old Coca Cola crates as a pile of dirt.


Cal Godot       JAZZ FLAVORED COFFEE
     e-mail:  godot at wolfenet.com
WWW: http://www.wolfenet.com/~godot/
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What is most appealing about young folks, after all, is the changes,
not the still photographs of finished character but the movie,
the soul in flux.  -- Thomas Pynchon