I went to an Arkansas Travelers baseball game tonight with Mrs. J, our two-year-old son Wylie, and my old man. We had a wonderful time, even though it trickled rain on us the whole time. (Or as my old Cajun Granny would have said, “It was a mizelin’”) Wylie got a foul ball from one of the security guys and he immediately said, “Where’s my bat?” He loves baseball more than anything and would rather go to a ball game than watch cartoons. That’s my boy!!
One thing that always gets my dander up about baseball is bunting. I do not understand why professional ballplayers would pop up a bunt! I was taught that popping up a bunt was the unpardonable sin in baseball; right up there with missing a sign. My old man (who was also my coach for my entire ten year career) taught me a method for bunting where I could lay it down every time and put it wherever I wanted. You just keep your hands together, let the whole bat slide down where you are gripping it about halfway down the barrel, then you just put the bat on the ball. The but end of the bat will hit you in the chest if you try to drop the barrel below your hands - if the barrel is above your hands, it is impossible to pop up the bunt!
It seems like every time I see someone trying to bunt on TV or at a game, they will pop up a couple foul before finally popping it up to either the pitcher or the third baseman. Sheesh. To quote Harry Caray “I Just don’t understand it.” Lay the stinking ball down on the grass and advance the runner; it is what you are being paid for.