Abstract: Better In Person
Disconnected by distance and electricity,
the game moves too slow to endure.
A sponsored narrative and quick cuts,
switch my attention without my permission.
The glass cannot describe the smell of the ballpark,
of beer, cheap meat, and Tuckahoe bluegrass,
Or fill my ears with the low hum of optimistic tension,
proud fans ready to for the show.
No.
Baseball was meant to be a sensory experience,
bathed in anticipation,
each pitch a separate act,
of an untimed play.
The catcher and pitcher conspire to fool the batter,
(who- if he be a wise batter- has scouted his enemy,
and is prepared for the attack,)
knowing a mistake can be fatal.
Each pitch changes the dynamic of act,
and the result is never sure,
until the last pitch from the last pitcher and the last batter,
lands safely in a glove or on the grass.
