There is no defense like some of the defense we saw in Game 2 of the World Series

Playing in professional baseball is so hard, and requires so much supernatural ability, that it is impossible for a civilian mind to grasp. Hitting a 90-mile-an-hour pitch — let alone the 100 mph that bends the fabric of the game — requires a combination of hand coordination, anticipation and emotional movements that most righties can’t achieve. With other professions, the concept of achieving greatness is comprehensible — I don’t have, and never want to, write a great American novel, but at least I can think about it — looking at a major league baseball game and trying to imagine myself in that state as a whole fantasy.

If you were to say that you were to take the three basic elements of the game — hitting, fixing, and climbing — and forcing a rando from a local bar to do one of them, I would argue that it would be the easiest field by far. No one who regularly plays baseball, or at least recently removed from doing so, rolls out of bed and swings a bat at a World Series game. And while it might be possible to get out of the mound, because they could help agriculture, the words from common weapons would be completely ridiculous in comparison to the real thing. But catching the people or the field of the founder could be done, even if some participants in Game 2 of the World Series produced evidence to the contrary.

The mixes started early on a Saturday night feverishly between the radios and the breweries. Yandy Díaz, the first hitter of the night, hit a weak grounder to Milwaukee shortstop Cooper Pratt to get things going. Pratt had put the ball in his glove and prepared to throw some (though not all) of the athletic rules he could have done. But, perhaps because this was the big, biggest baseball game that was on television and not just a hypothetical exercise for some guy writing a blog, Pratt didn’t complete the throw and burst into the camera for good. One shake, one mistake.