The Slang's the Thing

It's the bottom of the 9th. The bases are drunk because the lead-off hitter reached on an infield hit, then a freebie, then a Texas-league blooper to shallow right. Can the slugger jack it out? Will he pull it, or hit it to the opposite field?

If all of this sounds vaguely ominous to you, or like a language children made up to intentionally exclude their parents from their little world, then you have not spent enough time around ball players. Like engineers, they speak their own language.

One of the most fun things, to me, about watching baseball is getting in on the lingo.  Baseball has, by far, I think, the most colorful and lively slang of any sport.  When I was in the midst of learning the game, during Disastrous First Marriage in the 80s (see previous post), I reached a turning point when both my PHWWUNBWUB and I exclaimed--just as the swing by the batter missed the pitch, which meant that he had struck out, thus getting the pitcher out of a jam--an emphatic "GOT 'IM!" at the same time.

Baseball slang of course constantly evolves, so keeping up with it can be a challenge. Lots of times, it takes a while for me to sort out what a new term means. I have to work to pay attention to the context, and I listen for repetitions that will give me hints. Announcers/commentators often simply use terms without explanation, and then often do it on purpose. They figure that "real fans" will know what they mean; phony fans don't matter; and the smart ones will figure it out.  In the past couple of years, I have had to figure out for myself what a "walk-off" hit is (any hit, home run or otherwise, that ends the game--in other words, a hit in the bottom of the ninth for the home team that allows them to win the game, so everyone just "walks-off" the field: game over); what the OPS statistic consists of (on-base percentage plus slugging--an indication of a hitter's offensive ability); and the difference between "pulling" the ball, and "hitting to opposite field," slang terms that were necessary to accommodate either a right-handed batter or a left-handed batter.  Since we can't simply say, "He has a tendency to hit to right field" for everyone, we say, for a right-handed batter that when he hits the ball to right, he has "pulled" it, meaning he had to hit across his body. Hitting to the "opposite field" for a right-hander would mean he hit it to left field.  The opposite of both of those things would be true for a left-handed batter.  So, rather than clarify what they mean, they came up with these terms that are good for either side of the plate. Infinitely inventive, those ball players.

Some of baseball slang has entered into the non-baseball world, too.  Whenever slang migrates out of its home turf, so to speak, you can bet that it has resonated with the general population to such a degree that it has meaning outside the context of its original setting. "Hitting a home run" in a business setting can mean any wildly successful thing--either something new got "pitched" and was then agreed upon, or a proposal for a job got accepted, or a big contract that will ensure your business's continuance for the next millennium was awarded.   In fact, you could probably go so far as to say that once a sport-specific term has left the confines of its sport,  then what it expresses is relatable to everyone, not just players or watchers of that sport.   It's a measure of the effectiveness of the slang.

"The slang of the game is its quaint romance, the connective tissue between Ty Cobb and Ty Wigginton. Honestly, it's gratifying to know of a subculture of such pointless innovation, one without goals or aspirations, one not intended to impress the public or one's boss." --Nick Stillman, The Nation, May 13, 2009

Unfortunately, not all of baseball slang is particularly relatable or even especially kind to half the population. One particularly offensive "tradition" in the world of baseball has to do with the superstition that holds that if a player is slumping offensively, he should have sex with a fat woman. Such an enormous sacrifice on his part, so it goes, is enough the break the spell.  Being a fat woman myself, I find this particular bit of baseball slang hugely objectionable, but luckily, due to the level of its offensiveness,  it is never mentioned by on-air announcers or commentators, so I don't have to hear it. I can pretend, then, that it is not a part of the clubhouse-locker-room culture of the game. I can accept the traditions of the game while acknowledging that the men who play it are, well, men.

Some day, I may just have to sit down to write my own dictionary of baseball slang, even though the market is already replete with helpful publications, like the one above. But before I do that, I may have to get this one, and study it, as well as figure out what an "Eephus pitch" is.

Next time: Wrapping up the Diamondbacks' 2012 season.