I’d planned to write this week about my favorite beer vendor in Section 409, Glen. But the enthusiastic crowd at Saturday’s game kept him busy dispensing Bud and with no time to chat with a fan like me. So stay tuned for that piece. (And by the way, could we please play the Pirates more often?)
With my story idea squashed, I’ve decided to bring back a favorite: the language of baseball. Even though I shared some of my favorite terms back in May, we could fill a complete dictionary with the quirky terms players, fans and Ron Santo use to describe America’s past time. Sometimes I think it’s like a code. If you can carry on a conversation without consulting the enigma machine, you are in the club. To get through your next game, try dropping a few of these into the conversation…
Ducks on a pond: I just heard this one for the first time but love the image it brings to mind. Runners on base; especially when the bases are loaded.
Friendly Confines: The home ballpark.Obviously, those of us who bleed Cubby blue think there is only one place deserving of the name: Wrigley Field. And today, the phrase is synonymous with our grand ballpark. Ernie Banks took ownership of the phrase for us with him famous quote “Ahh, the friendly confines of beautiful, ivy-covered Wrigley Field, where you play under the world’s best lights, the solar system.” But before Mr. Cub connected the term indelibly with Wrigley, it was used to describe many home parks.
Pow wow: A mid-game meeting of players and coaches on the mound to discuss strategy. Why does it take so long and what are they really talking about? To quote Crash Davis, “We’re dealing with a lot of shit here.” The reply: “Candlesticks are always nice.”
Golden sombrero: I just learned this one, too. To strike out four times in a single game. The reference is based on hockey’s hat trick (scoring three) but in this case, a dubious honor. Wikipedia says the platinum sombrero applies to five strikes outs in one game, but I’ve never heard it used.
Table setter: A hitter who’s role is to get on base for other players to drive him in. We’ve got these, how about some runs? (We’re clocking the third lowest team average with RISP.)
The rubber match: Describes the deciding game of a series when the teams enter the game tied. So the third, fifth or seventh game of a series. Originally a card-playing term.
Dying quail: A batted ball that drops suddenly and unexpectedly. Also known as a blooper. You get the hunting reference I am sure.
Fireman: A team’s closer or late inning reliever. As in, “Lou thinks we could really use a new fireman.” C’mon Gregg!
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If you were “subjected” to Hawk (I move between like and despise depending on the day) on a regular basis, you wouldn’t have to do columns on the language of baseball as all of these and more are just a part of the “language of Hawk,” or “Hawkism’s” as some describe them.
Some of my personal favorites are:
+ There’s a Matt Abattacola
+ Double-barreled activity
+ He’s in the catbird seat
+ Sacks packed with Sox’s (for obvious reasons)
+ That’s a hang wiff-em
+ Put a big crooked number up there