Post by Yankees GM (A) on Jun 23, 2008 10:30:54 GMT -5
I loved this guy. So in his honor: Baseball vs. Football
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YphEUa5LPjM
Baseball is different from any other sport. Very different. For instance, in most sports you score points or goals; in baseball, you score runs.
In most sports, the ball, or object, is put into play by the offencive team; in baseball, the defencive team puts the ball in play, and only the defence is allowed to touch the ball. In fact, in baseball, if an offencive player touches the ball intentionally, he’s out; sometimes unintentionally, he’s out.
Also–in football, basketball, soccer, volleyball, and all sports played with a ball, you score with the ball, and in baseball the ball prevents you from scoring.
In most sports, the team is run by a coach. In baseball, the team is run by a manager. And, only in baseball does the manager or coach wear the same clothing the players do. If you’d ever seen John Madden in his Oakland Raiders uniform, you’d know the reason for this custom.
Now, I’ve mentioned football. Baseball and football are the two most popular spectator sports in this country. And, as such, it seems they ought to be able to tell us something about ourselves and our values. I enjoy comparing baseball to football.
Baseball is a nineteenth-century pastoral game. Football is a twentieth-century technological struggle.
Baseball is played on a diamond, in a park–the baseball park. Football is played on a gridiron, in a stadium, sometimes called Soldier Field or War Memorial Stadium.
Baseball begins in the spring, the season of new life. Football begins in the fall, when everything’s dying.
In football, you wear a helmet. In baseball, you wear a cap.
Football is concerned with downs—what down is it? Baseball is concerned with ups—who’s up? Are you up? I’m not up, he’s up!
In football, you receive a penalty. In baseball, you make an error.
In football, the specialist comes in to kick. In baseball, the specialist comes in to relieve somebody.
Football has hitting, clipping, spearing, piling on, personal fouls, late hitting, and unnecessary roughness. Baseball has the sacrifice.
Football is played in any kind of weather—rain, snow, sleet, hail, fog. In baseball, if it rains, we don’t go out to play.
Baseball has the seventh-inning stretch. Football has the two-minute warning.
Baseball has no time limit. We don’t when it’s going to end—might have extra innings. Football is rigidly timed, and it will end even if we’ve got to go to sudden death.
In baseball, during the game, in the stands, there’s kind of a picnic feeling. Emotions may run high or low, but there’s not too much unpleasantness. In football, during the game, in the stands, you can be sure that at least twenty-seven times you’re capable of taking the life of another human being.
And, finally, the objectives of the two games are completely different:
In football, the object is for the quarterback—also known as the field general—to be on target with his aerial bombardment, riddling the defence by hitting his receivers with deadly accuracy in spite of the blitz, even if he has to use shotgun. With short bullet passes and long bombs, he marches his troops into enemy territory, balancing this aerial assault with a sustained ground attack that punches holes in the forward wall of the enemy’s defencive line.
In baseball, the object is to go home, and be safe—”I hope I’ll be safe at home!”
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YphEUa5LPjM
Baseball is different from any other sport. Very different. For instance, in most sports you score points or goals; in baseball, you score runs.
In most sports, the ball, or object, is put into play by the offencive team; in baseball, the defencive team puts the ball in play, and only the defence is allowed to touch the ball. In fact, in baseball, if an offencive player touches the ball intentionally, he’s out; sometimes unintentionally, he’s out.
Also–in football, basketball, soccer, volleyball, and all sports played with a ball, you score with the ball, and in baseball the ball prevents you from scoring.
In most sports, the team is run by a coach. In baseball, the team is run by a manager. And, only in baseball does the manager or coach wear the same clothing the players do. If you’d ever seen John Madden in his Oakland Raiders uniform, you’d know the reason for this custom.
Now, I’ve mentioned football. Baseball and football are the two most popular spectator sports in this country. And, as such, it seems they ought to be able to tell us something about ourselves and our values. I enjoy comparing baseball to football.
Baseball is a nineteenth-century pastoral game. Football is a twentieth-century technological struggle.
Baseball is played on a diamond, in a park–the baseball park. Football is played on a gridiron, in a stadium, sometimes called Soldier Field or War Memorial Stadium.
Baseball begins in the spring, the season of new life. Football begins in the fall, when everything’s dying.
In football, you wear a helmet. In baseball, you wear a cap.
Football is concerned with downs—what down is it? Baseball is concerned with ups—who’s up? Are you up? I’m not up, he’s up!
In football, you receive a penalty. In baseball, you make an error.
In football, the specialist comes in to kick. In baseball, the specialist comes in to relieve somebody.
Football has hitting, clipping, spearing, piling on, personal fouls, late hitting, and unnecessary roughness. Baseball has the sacrifice.
Football is played in any kind of weather—rain, snow, sleet, hail, fog. In baseball, if it rains, we don’t go out to play.
Baseball has the seventh-inning stretch. Football has the two-minute warning.
Baseball has no time limit. We don’t when it’s going to end—might have extra innings. Football is rigidly timed, and it will end even if we’ve got to go to sudden death.
In baseball, during the game, in the stands, there’s kind of a picnic feeling. Emotions may run high or low, but there’s not too much unpleasantness. In football, during the game, in the stands, you can be sure that at least twenty-seven times you’re capable of taking the life of another human being.
And, finally, the objectives of the two games are completely different:
In football, the object is for the quarterback—also known as the field general—to be on target with his aerial bombardment, riddling the defence by hitting his receivers with deadly accuracy in spite of the blitz, even if he has to use shotgun. With short bullet passes and long bombs, he marches his troops into enemy territory, balancing this aerial assault with a sustained ground attack that punches holes in the forward wall of the enemy’s defencive line.
In baseball, the object is to go home, and be safe—”I hope I’ll be safe at home!”