Half a day or so ago I watched a rebroadcast of Major League Baseball’s Arizona Diamondbacks versus the Colorado Rockies. Going into the eighth inning the D-Backs were down 8 to 5. But soon the bases were loaded, a walk was forced in, and then Paul Edward Goldschmidt, affectionately known as “Goldy,” lanced a three-run double down the third baseline, and the tide was turned.

To anyone unfamiliar with the esoterica of baseball, the preceding sentence is full of gibberish, as is this commemorative page. But I hope the page and its cadences work as metaphor and visual engagement for those unfamiliar with baseball.

“Batter Up,” said by the umpire, is the traditional way to start a half-inning. “HEY Batta Batta Batta,” said by the catcher and various of his teammates, is classic “pepper,” chattery words said to disconcert the batsman. Alas, modern professional baseball seems to lack this particular spice.

Batter UP

Buy a ticket, go, and then U
Are where Food Courts apprehend U
There’s a T-Bone on the menu
Tip your cup your hand your cap
Easy does it–loll and yap
Righteous Game is on the map

HEY Batta Batta Batta

Hurler squints and grips the orb
Hitter, in the moment, Zorba
Here the pitch comes–SWING–he hits it
Hammered, but the shortstop gets it

Elegance and s t a m i n a
Errors happen: WHAM and flub
Earned Run Averages rise–a
Eulogy for wild/crazed guys–it
Engineers a Bullpen dance–it
Ends the run extravaganza

You warble till you lose your Warb
You soak up fun–as you absorb, a
Youngness is, with which you’re kist
You add GRIN to your All-Done list
You see again the skyback vista