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This is why I always stay until the last out. You never know when you're going to see a flash of brilliance!
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Baseball a nice distraction in Washington

In that fleeting interval between earthquake/hurricane and the president’s 57th (or so) major national address next Thursday, I can finally devote a summer column to the finest ef­florescence of that season this city has to offer: the Washington Nationals.

They are a baseball team. Not yet very good, mind you, but it matters not. When you live in a town with a great team, you go to see them win. When you live in a town with a team that is passing rapidly through mediocrity on its way to contention — the Nats have an amazing crop of upcom­ing young players — you go for the moments.

I go to see Ryan Zimmerman charge a slowly hit grounder down the third-base line. This happens roughly once a game. Zim comes flying in, picks up the ball barehanded and throws it across his body to first base, perpendicular to the direction he’s run­ning.

Except that this cannot be done. You could never get enough (velocity) on the throw to get the out at first. So Zimmer­man dives forward, leaving his feet and hovering there for an instant, his body parallel to the ground in order to get more arm extension and thus more on the throw, which by now is nearly under­handed, his fingers almost scraping the ground. Batter out.

Try this yourself. Aim for a barn door.

You will miss. And also dislocate your shoulder.

Another attraction is rookie second baseman Danny Espinosa. He has what in baseball parlance is known as range.

A hard shot is hit to the hole between first and second, and Espy ranges to his left to snag it. Three weeks ago, one shot was hit so hard and so deep that he had to dive onto the outfield grass to reach it, sliding on his side in the general direc­tion of the right-field foul pole.

Nice grab, but unless you can get the ball to first, it’s just for show. Espy starts to get up. But there is no time for stand­ing. So, from his knees, while still sliding on the grass out toward the stands, he forces himself into a counter-clockwise, 180-degree spin to throw back toward first base — except that he actually begins his throw mid-turn, while facing

the outfi eld, thereby gaining velocity from the centrifugal force (and probably the rotation of the Earth, although this remains unverified). It’s like throwing on your knees from a spinning merry-go­round that is itself moving laterally in a landslide. Try that.

Batter out.

The piece de resistance, however, is what center fielder Rick Ankiel pulled off last Sunday. It’s the bottom of the ninth, one out. The Reds have just tied the game with a solo homer. They need one more run to win. Batter crushes the ball to right-center field. If it clears the wall, game over.

But it doesn’t. It bounces off the wall, eluding our right fielder.

Ankiel, who had dashed over from center, charges after the ball, picks it up barehanded and, in full running stride, fires it to third, to which the batter is headed and from which he is very likely to later score and win the game (there being only one out).

Now, when mortals throw a ball, they give it arc to gain distance. That’s how ar­tillery works. Ankiel is better than artil­lery. He releases the ball at the top of his throwing motion, the ball rocketing out as if tracing a clothesline. It bounces five feet from third base, perfectly on line, ar­riving a millisecond before the batter and maybe 20 inches above the bag.

Quick tag. Batter out. Game saved.

(Blown five innings later. But remember, it’s the Nats.) Said Nats broadcaster and former major leaguer F.P. Santangelo: “That might be the best throw I’ve ever seen.” Me too, except that I didn’t see it personally, as it were. Only saw it on TV.

They were playing in Cincinnati. I may be a fan, but I’m not a lunatic. I don’t travel with the team.

Yet.

Yes, I know that the world is going to pieces, and that the prowess of three gifted players doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. But I remind you that FDR wanted baseball to contin­ue during World War II. I make no claim that elegance and grace on any field will fend off the Apocalypse. But if it comes in summer, I’ll be at Nats Park, Section 128, hard by the Dippin’ Dots.

CHARLES KRAUTHAMMER is a columnist with the Washington Post. E- mail him at letters@charleskrauthammer.com
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biggerpapi,

Thanks for sharing. I watched that game, and it was very, very exciting.

The "Nats" have become an infatuation of sorts (for me) that I can't explain. I will always be a Red Sox fan first and foremost, but the Nats have become my National League adopted step child that I love just the same. They have rekindled that feeling I had when I was a kid....going to the ballpark when I was young in the Boston area. I've been to at least a half dozen Nats games in the last two years, and I've thoroughly enjoyed myself with family in tow. There is a buzz around the ballpark and everybody knows they will be good in a few years. Yes, some days they are like a "grease fire" but other days there are flashes of brilliance as Chareles Krauthammer describes in his article.

I can't wait for that Red Sox vs Nationals world series in a few years! Wink
Last edited by fenwaysouth
Every time the Yankees play the Red Sox, the same broken record response comes from a lame Yankee announcer names Michael Kay. Their games are long because of the rivalry and the offensive powers these teams are.

Kay always says at the end of every game regardless who's playing "The game time was an unmanageable 3:30". Any gane over 2:59 is considered unmanageable. What I'd like to know what's unmanageable. What's his hurry?
quote:
Originally posted by zombywoof:
Every time the Yankees play the Red Sox, the same broken record response comes from a lame Yankee announcer names Michael Kay. Their games are long because of the rivalry and the offensive powers these teams are.

Kay always says at the end of every game regardless who's playing "The game time was an unmanageable 3:30". Any gane over 2:59 is considered unmanageable. What I'd like to know what's unmanageable. What's his hurry?


Worse yet is listening to the game on the radio. With my son gone and off to school, I'm currently painting my detached garage and window trim. Suzyn Waldman and John Sterling are the definition of unlistenable. Between the endless commercials, Sterling's cliches and Suzyn's voice droning on, I'm not sure I can listen again.

Off to paint...
Last edited by birdman14
quote:
Originally posted by zombywoof:
Every time the Yankees play the Red Sox, the same broken record response comes from a lame Yankee announcer names Michael Kay. Their games are long because of the rivalry and the offensive powers these teams are.

Kay always says at the end of every game regardless who's playing "The game time was an unmanageable 3:30". Any gane over 2:59 is considered unmanageable. What I'd like to know what's unmanageable. What's his hurry?


You think Michael Kay is bad, go listen to Bob Carpenter. He makes baffling statements, and F.P. Santangelo doesn't help his low announcing IQ. At least they're (moderately) better than Joe Buck and Tim McCarver (the reason I gave up on Fox baseball)

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