Like many parents whose D3-ball-playing kids hate them, my three sons decided to play thousands of miles away from home (5007, 4899, and 4947 miles, respectively). Consequently, I rely on video streams for the vast majority of my sons' games. (Relevant aside: I readily admit that I'm beyond jealous of the parents of my sons' classmates whose quality of play has landed them in the SEC, ACC, PAC 12, Big 12, and Big 10, as opposed to the NESCAC, the Liberty League, and the Centennial Conference. Multiple camera angles would be Nirvana's Nectar for me).
But I digress. I am inspired to share because of some of the comments and videos I've heard on game streams.
Ex #1: College playing game I saw uses one camera. No play by play announcer but a mic was open and you could very clearly hear fans talking and the PA announcer naming who was at bat or on the mound. You could also hear the dugouts react to umpires' calls on close plays, and then to each other's reactions. I saw something memorable: after one kid hit a homer, he ran the bases on tip toes, like a deer bounding across a field, until he got to home plate, where he hesitated for at least 5 seconds, and then pounced on the plate, á la Cristiano Ronaldo after one of his goals (see below). But that wasn't the best part. The best part was hearing a female fan, clearly a middle-aged, at least, opposing team parent say, in a long, drawn out drawl: "Honey, are you f-ing serious? Oh, my..."
Then the players got into it:
1) Hey, who's THAT guy? Mini-me? (referring charitably to the diminutive stature of the homerun hitter),
Then 2) in reference to the portly starting pitcher: "Hey, anybody need some tires? Michelin Man is here!"
Then 3) a 6'2", 150lb reliever comes in: "Now we got chop stick. What's next?"
Next category, which is both bad and funny: the volunteer septuagenarian play by play guy who's only personal connection to playing the game came when he was in LL sixty years ago. Bless his heart, though, he loves the game, and the local D3 needed a volunteer play by play guy.
The problem is, he can barely remember which team is hitting, or the name of the pitcher (e.g., 5th inning: "Well, that's all she wrote for lefty Max Headroom as Head Coach Nuke LaLoosh ambles out to the mound to put Max out of his misery." Which would be okay but Max Headroom isn't even in the game, having been pulled several innings earlier because he threw 16 balls in a row and then gave up a grand slam. Max's mom, having suffered cringe upon cringe at this point yells at the perpetually blurry screen: "He's not even in the game, dude! He was pulled an hour ago! Mort, do something!" Max's dad, Mort, meanwhile, puts his head in his hands, slowly rocks back and forth in the easiest chair in the house, and whispers repeatedly to himself "Portami in Paradiso adesso, Dio"
The Good: The two Union College (NY) play by play guys last year were GREAT. They've clearly played a lot of ball themselves, they have the rosters and their details well-memorized, especially about kids far from home, or with interesting bio notes, they intelligently anticipate strategy, and, for the most part, they're not homers. They are so good I wish my son had gone to school there, so I'd have more fun streaming the games 5000 miles away.
Can't wait for this weekend's gems!
