03:05 AM
04/20/24
04/20/24
June 19, 2018
In its typical invocation, chemistry is a cop-out: an after-the-fact explanation of why a team won, especially against the odds. It lets us avoid uncomfortable truths: that baseball, like the workforce, is not always a meritocracy; that mediocre teams can capitalize on luck to beat very good ones; that the sport can be cosmically unjust. In the postgame twilight, chemistry coalesces as a narrative—the “It’s not you, it’s me” of baseball heartbreak. It rings hollow, but is not provably false.
I have watched a lot of baseball from on the field over the past years. In that time I have seen perhaps 3 or 4 games each season that are decided by a fluke event or series of events, and which the weaker team won. I have seen line drives down the lines that had they stayed in play would easily have been home runs turn into a 2-base award because they rolled out of play. I have taken hits away from batters and called them out because they made contact with their foot completely outside the batter's box. The worst one was a perfect throw to the plate that would have been a sure out on the potential winning run struck a bat that had been dropped by the batter in front of the plate. The ball could not be handled by the catcher, the play would have been the final out of the game, and the team that should have won did not. Beisbol she is a funny game.