A 1998 baseball / romantic comedy movie “Bull Durham” (streaming on Prime for a modest rental fee) recounted the exploits of a minor league North Carolina baseball team, the Durham Bulls. It starred Kevin Costner as catcher “Crash “Davis, Susan Sarandon as baseball groupie Annie Savoy and Tim Robbins as “Nuke “LaLoosh, a potential major league pitcher with a million-dollar arm and a five-cent head. Sports Illustrated ranked it as the number #1 sports movie of all time.

Sarandon does a voice over at the beginning of the movie, which contains these lines: “I believe in the Church of Baseball…. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and 108 stitches on a baseball. When I heard that, I gave Jesus a chance. But it just didn’t work out between us……. I’ve tried ‘em all, I really have, but the only church that feeds the soul, day in, day out, is the Church of Baseball.”

Baseball is referred to as our “national pastime”. Once, that was the case but football now appears to be the most popular sport, at least with respect to television ratings.

For some, like me, professional baseball is the perfect game. To be sure, to play it well requires athletic ability like any professional sport, but it also requires the manager to continually react to situations in the game (when and who to pinch hit or pinch run; who to call from the bullpen and when; when to steal a base, bunt, etc.).

There is no greater accomplishment in professional sports than a pitcher who throws a perfect game (only 24 out of more than 238,000 played) or a no-hitter. There is no greater (or unexpected) spectacle than a grand slam home run (bases loaded resulting in 4 runs) especially one that wins a game as with the case with the Orioles a few weeks ago. 

For anyone who loves ballet, there is no more perfect choreography than when a second baseman catches a hard-hit ground ball and lightly tosses the ball underhand to the charging shortstop as he catches it barehanded while stepping on second base and throws a rocket to first to complete a (“I can’t believe what I just saw”) double play.

Is baseball perfect? Like any human endeavor, it is not. The games were too long but that has been pretty much cured this year by a pitch clock and the games are now half an hour shorter. There are traditionalists who objected to the, now decades old, designated hitter rule where the pitcher never has to bat but that objection is never heard these days. The season may be too long (162 games) with spring training starting in February and the World Series, in some years, ending in early November.

The difference between a mediocre team and an excellent team is relatively small. The team which wins 5 out of 10 games is decidedly mediocre with a 500 % winning percentage.  A team that wins 6 out of 10 games or a winning percentage of 600% will lead all 30 professional teams.

Baseball has always been a game of statistics, whether it would be batting average or a pitcher’s earned run average. It is also a game of homers where, for years, the issue was whether any player would beat Babe Ruth’s 60 homers in a season. Six players have now exceeded that mark, but only two (Roger Maris and Aaron Judge) were not the beneficiaries of steroid enhancement. Even then, the baseball purist will say that the Babe did it in 154 games not in the present 162 game schedule.

It is the only team sport where the field for games is different. To be sure, the infields are the same with home plate, the pitcher’s mound and the bases in exactly the same position. But the outfields are another matter. Because of the different dimensions in the outfields, a home run in one ballpark will not be a home run in many others. A home run to left field in many ball parks will bounce off the Green Monster in Boston’s Fenway Park. A pop fly down the right field line will be caught for an out in many ball parks but might well be a home run if it drifts past the Pesky Pole in Fenway. And it’s not just Fenway but every ballpark is idiosyncratic when it comes to the outfield.

If there is one annoying thing about present day baseball, it is that the beautiful game of statistics is now on steroids. The announcers want to tell you what the “spin rate” is on a pitch or the “exit velocity” on a batted ball. Metrics has taken over the game and not in a good way.

What would you rather hear on the radio? “He hit an absolute scorcher [OR a ball with an exit velocity of 106.5] to Jackson at second who, somehow, gloved it and fed it into Gunnar’s bare hand coming across the bag for a throw to first for a double play.

The announcers are now so enamored of the statistical trivia that we sometimes hear about those while missing the hit a player just laced into left field. One must question whether there is any real value to many of these arcane metrics such as, QOP (quality of pitch statistic which combines speed, location, and movement reduces into a single numerical value); OOPS (pitcher allowance of on base plus slugging); UBR (a base running metric which assigns a linear weight to every base running event in order to measure the impact of an individual’ s base running skills). 

Which, in a very roundabout way, brings me to the case of James McCann. McCann is the number two catcher for the 2024 Baltimore Orioles. He has done well in his professional career, having played for four major league teams and made a considerable amount of money. A few years ago, he received $40 million for a 4-year contract with the New York Mets, but he didn’t produce so they let him go after two years (although they still owe the rest of the money). The Met’s loss was the Orioles’ considerable gain.

Not only is McCann a good player but his work in the Baltimore community resulted in him being nominated for the Roberto Clemente award. That award is given to the major league player who best exemplifies the values of baseball both on the field, and, most importantly, in the community. The winner is announced during the World Series.

About a month ago, McCann, while batting, was hit in the face by a 95-mph baseball. He went down to the ground and was bleeding profusely from his nose. The game was stopped for 10-15 minutes while the training staff attempted to stop the bleeding. The bleeding was stopped by putting what appeared to be massive Q-tips up McCann’ nose. Everyone figured that he was out of the game, but that was not to be. McCann got a new jersey since his first one was covered with blood. Having been hit, he then took his place at first base and proceeded to stay in and catch the rest of the game. The announcers could only say that he was “one tough dude”.

I don’t know if McCann believes in the Church of Baseball, but I do know he believes in providential events. Last week, the Orioles sponsored a “Faith Night” where discounted tickets were given to believers who wanted to hear Oriole players talking about their faith after the game. Perhaps as expected all the players were Christian and I suspect that was also the case with the 4000 to 5000 believers who gathered to hear speeches after the game.

Most of the players recounted how God had blessed their lives and were the type of testimonials that one might expect. When it was McCann’s turn, he stole the show.

He asked the crowd to close their eyes while he recounted a story. Given the audience, I think almost all of them closed their eyes and bowed their heads. Imagine, he said, that a woman had just had a miscarriage, but then found herself pregnant again. This time, however, the doctors suggested that she abort the fetus because there was only a 25% chance that the baby would be born alive and, even if born, would probably have severe physical and mental deficiencies. She and her husband decided to go ahead anyway. There are some people who say that God doesn’t make mistakes, a position many find hard to believe. I don’t think that’s the case with McCann or his parents. 

When his story was almost over, McCann told the crowd to open their eyes and to look directly at him and then he said; “I was that baby”. “From day 1, God has been protecting me”. 

Apparently, that protection includes a 95-mph fastball to the face.