Baseball Tonight

The Yankees won tonight.  They still have "The Best Record in Baseball"  But they have not been winning.  They are losing half their games since A-Rod went on the disabled list a few days ago. Still, even though he didn't play tonight, the Yankees won.  Because they scored a lot of runs. But that, it's been drummed into my head, is pitching.  In this case, bad  pitching by their starter.  


I still don't really understand why so much of the game depends on pitching.  Even great hitters can't hit great pitching. It never, or very seldom ever, happens.  And I'm so tired, I'm actually writing about baseball. I'm going to regret it.    


And I'm  realizing, as I read this back, that all my baseball knowledge, day to day,  is just the verbatim  repetition of what commentators said on tv or radio. All of it.  I very rarely have an independent as well interesting observation about a game, a player or anything to do with the game.   


And later, I'm talking to a guy who watched or listened to the same game and we'll both repeat exactly what we both heard from the  same announcers at the  same time. And it's like, wow, yeah.  Why do we do this?  It must be comforting, the repeating of things we all already know and have heard a million times.  It is a ritual. Just like church. Maybe he National League should merge with the Catholic church, whose attendance is flagging.  I mean they the church and baseball already have so much in common. The sacrificial fly.  The trinity of the pitcher, batter and catcher.  Going home.  And now,  I'm going to bed. I'm sorry for anybody who read this all the way through.  It's just neurons, radomly firing.  Not thinking.  Not anything.

A Brief History of Alfred Jarry

        This is Neither Alfred Jarry Nor a Pipe*

    

                (Figure 2)

    

                (Figure 2)

Author of "Ubu Roi" (Ubu The King), a masterpiece that prefigured the Dadaist and later Surrealistic movements,  he was also the father of Pataphysics, the science of exceptions or imaginary solutions.   This was Alfred Jarry.  "Ubu Roi" is still still produced,  but not nearly enough.  In its time, it was considered a vicious, even dangerous, political satire, its street language scandalized theater critics and it closed after a single performance. 

On occasion Jarry,  all 5' 1" of him, rode his bicycle through the streets of Paris with two, fully loaded, pearl-handled pistols holstered at his side.  He is known to have fired one or both of the pistols several times.  Witnesses differ on the number of shots fired but on one point there was unanimity, Jarry never pointed at anything but sky.  Jarry was also a prolific inventor.  He designed and built a time machine masw of brass, wood, ivory and as many dials an gauges as an atomic submarine.  Several artists saw the time machine,  but never sat in it, as far as anyone knows.  Still considering his fame or infamy, it seems peculiar that nobody (not even Picasso) had any idea what became of it.  I failed to locate it in the possession of any museum or private art collection.  It may well have not survived.  The time machine would, however explain Jarrry's sudden disappearance at the age of 34, on the night of November 1, 1907.  Newspapers the next day said that Jarry had died.  There was a funeral several days later.   But after so many years, it is difficult to separate what is true from speculation.  Born on September 8, 1847, he became, with Picasso, a major influence on the arts and letters of the time.  Jarry foresaw "Theater of The Absurd" as well as the Dada and Surrealistic movements.   At the same point in time, Picasso was creating Cubsism.

* The caption over the above picture of Alfred Jarry is, of course, borrowed from 

Marcel Duchamp's 

Surrealistic 

masterpiece called, ""This is not a pipe." (See figure 2*) 

It hangs in the Louve