well, it's been a run, of figuratively literal proportions

the last post was my 300th post! let's all enjoy that. maybe later today i'll highlight a few of the special moments along the road to 300. 300 is a special number. not only does it have that mythical number 3 involved in its notation, it also is a number ripe with significance in the sport of baseball. ask a big baseball fan what the number 300 means to the sport and invariably they'll point out that if you hit .300 (3 hits in every 10 at bats) then you are considered an excellent hitter. batting .300 for a career, if long enough, will probably get you into the hall of fame. if you rolled your eyes when the big baseball fan answered in the former fashion about batting .300, rolled your eyes as in, 'obviously, give me another example of the number 300 in baseball,' the fan would probably mention that if a pitcher strikes out 300 batters in a season, well, that's super outstanding. however, press the fan futher on the significance of 300 and they might stall for a moment and then flounder with an answer like, 'well, baseball sure has a good chance at lasting 300 more years (?)' or something.

anyway, i was thinking about lloyd mcclendon, the recently fired pirates manager, and it got me thinking about his temper tantrums he'd throw on the field, stealing bases (literally)*, arguing with umpires, etc. the new manager, jim tracy, appears to be more like an instructor than a motivator. thinking about that contrast between the two managers and wondering which was better for a baseball team got me thinking about bill cowher and how he's a 'master motivator.'

now, all sports need intructors. but, during the playing of the actual game, the flow of the game requires a different kind of energy for each sport. football is a game of bursts of energy and emotion. focus is important, but adrenaline and instincts are much more important in football than in baseball.

so all this got me thinking about the role of fans in attendence. a football game, if it's extremely important, maybe an AFC championship game, is filled with a fan explosion after nearly every play. the players are rewarded for pumping themselves up and giving more than they've got. they want the reward of fan frenzy, it makes them feel more than human (i imagine) and so they dig deeper.

how about baseball. in baseball, hitting the ball safely 3 out of 10 times is a remarkable success. winning 6 out of 10 games is a fantastic percentage. the most common phrase uttered by baseball commentators is probably 'it's a routine play.' baseball players don 't thrive on emotion. they can't afford to live and die with each play. their motto is 'it ain't over until it's over.' stay calm focused and relaxed. don't squeeze the bat handle or you'll mess up your swing. don't squeeze the ball too tightly or you'll throw it with less velocity. be patient. wait. wait. do things correctly 3 percent of the time more than your opponent and after 162 games you'll be on top the league. watching a baseball game is similar. slow, mounting tension. fans applaud nicely for a 1st inning single. 'that's nice,' they might think. two routine outs later, a guy walks. noone notices at first, as he jogs down the line but then a few people do and they nudge their friends. people think, 'hmm, a little more excitement. all we need's a single and we might score one run.' now, maybe i'm downgrading baseball a little here, but it's probably because i'm a pirate fan. they've lost 3 percent more than they've won over the last 13 losing seasons and so all of that .750 getting out percentage is so much harder to take when you're never rewarded for your patience. but think a yankee game or a brave game. the crowd does get more excited, but they only get to roar a very few times a game. maybe just one big one at the end. football thrives on contant energy.

cool, check soccer. more similar to baseball than football. the players need to flow together, get in the same zone, same wavelenght. know what he's going to do so you know what you're going to do all before you even pass him the ball. there are so many options that you can do with the ball that you just have to trust your instincts and vision. make a mistake and you feel more like you got out of your rhythm. when you're playing well you wouldn't have thought to try to make that pass. you would have known what to do and would have done it. so, check the fans. constant humming, drumming. trying to create a daze. trying to let the players delve into their subconcious and just react and not think too much.

and behind it all - anticipation. soccer is most similar to hockey in anticipation. they are my favorite sports to watch. flow. visible flow. there is most definitely flow in a football game. it's called momentum. it's not as visible. it's neat though because there's always that chance for an individual to step up and break that momentum if it's against his team. he's called a playmaker. or a gamebreaker.

of course, hockey and soccer have this too. it's just, flow is easier to work against than momentum (just saying/making up).

all right. that's all for now. you know what i mean.

*devon, steve's sister's boyfriend?(you know). funny. oh, he's abe cernicks. that should help.

anyway, he was pointing out to me how funny it is that sports commentators always use the word 'literally' in its horribly wrong way. for example, 'he just literally tore his head off!' or 'the man is literally a monster!' and as i'm writing this i'm realizing how it's hilariously the word that they most emphasize. of course, this is just a form of exciting exaggerration, and i am literally the biggest fan of exaggerration. but it's funny that i didn't notice it before. 'this game has literally turned into a barnburner' translated means 'this game is more of a barnburner than any game i can currently think of and possibly the biggest barnburner of them all in history.' (i'm not getting into sports metaphors topic)

so, figuratively, i'm out, beeyatches

oh, not quite. i found it amusing (and it was actually the point i was making to devon that led him to make the above point to me) that announcers sometimes use the word literally redundantly. like, 'that was literally a great play' or 'he literally caught the football out of mid air.' i mean, you only need to use literally if you think people aren't going to believe what you're describing. 'like, mom, the tv literally fell out of the window and landed on his head.' then again, i'm also a fan of sneaky redundancies. like, i'll walk around now ordering burgers at a drive through like, 'yeah, i'd literally like two double cheesburgers' or 'are you serious in that you literally want me to dust the whole house.' hahaha, that one didn't work. but what's funny is she probably did.

then there was bye