Baseball Etiquette

With the onset of spring, I look forward to nothing more than Opening Day of America’s official national sport.  To my mind, there’s nothing better to get the juices flowing than a good game of baseball.

And the action isn’t all at the major league level either.  If you’ve never done so, you really need to drop by a local ballpark to experience the emotions of small children as they learn the basics of the venerable game.  Watch those six-year only boys, with T-shirts to their ankles, sporting baseball caps with the cheap plastic straps in the back.  No matter how tightly you adjust those straps, the caps still swim on their heads.

You’ll experience the complete sense of childish oblivion displayed by a seven-year old girl practicing her dance pirouettes in the outfield, as a fly ball sails over her head.  She’ll continue to dance until her dad reminds her to retrieve the ball and toss it to her shortstop.  Or you may witness the joy of a five-year old hitting the ball off a tee and running straight up the line – to third base.

But to really experience baseball, watch the patient coaches.  Those who spend time teaching the kids baseball fundamentals – and the etiquette of our Great American Pastime.

Remember these experiences. Cherish them.  Because “the realities of life” soon kick in for those kids good enough to continue with the sport and actually make a career of baseball.  The intensity of the game changes.  And the etiquette changes.  Boy, does the etiquette change!  Because, in addition to honing their baseball skills, young baseball players become experts at another art.  The fine art of spitting.

I’m not sure at what point in a baseball player’s training that the course on spitting is introduced.  But they sure become good at it. You’ve seen professional players on TV.  They’ll sit in the dugout and spit.  Not generally out on the field, however.  No, no, no.  They’ll just drop a lung patty right at their feet.  It’s a wonder no one ever slips and breaks a leg.  Or worse yet, drowns.

Watch them in the on deck circle.  They’ll take a practice swing, then huck a lunger.  Another swing.  Another lunger.  Endless cycle.  Thank God the surrounding area is clay; otherwise they’d be wallowing in mud.  And it makes you wonder why anyone would ever want to slide into first base – especially head first.  I’m sure spit was the catalyst for the rule that allows a player to overrun first base.

I believe the truly best baseball expulsions, however, are reserved for the TV cameras.  You’ve seen the classic camera pose.  A player comes to the batter’s box, taps his bat on the plate, launches into a few practice swings.  Then he spews a bucketful of saliva down the line.  And, of course, the piece de resistance follows.  He’ll make…”the adjustment”.  If you have to ask…well, don’t.

Baseball players spit a variety of substances as well.  Many chew gum.  Not just a stick, as you or I might, but something the size of a brick.  And that brings out all the juices.  Other players chew tobacco, which promotes a need to constantly spit.  They’ll munch on a wad as big as the bubble gum brick, but lumpier – more like a cud, with stray pieces protruding from the corners of their mouths.  Players who chew tobacco are usually recognizable by the brown drool stains on the front of their uniforms.  And they generally can’t spit as far.  I suppose the tobacco makes for a heavier lugie.

No other sport visibly promotes spitting the way baseball does.  I’ve never seen a football player spit in a game.  Hopefully, most of them are smart enough to know that spitting through the face guard of a football helmet isn’t recommended.  You don’t see basketball players spitting on the court.  They have enough of a challenge navigating their pools of sweat that savvy arena employees are constantly mopping off the court.  And hockey players?  They’re too busy throwing checks and punches to think much about spitting, although I suspect they aren’t just lacing up their skates when they bend down on the bench.  Probably closet spitters.

Nonetheless, with these somewhat disturbing images firmly lodged in your mind, I still encourage you to visit a ball field and watch those little kids scamper down the base paths.  And if you see one who appears to have a natural talent for the game, take his coach aside.  And suggest that he invest in a roll of duct tape.  Just to stave off the spitting habit as long as possible.

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