Zito's Paradox

"If everything when it occupies an equal space is at rest, and if that which is in motion is always occupying such a space at any moment, the pitched ball is therefore motionless"

Is it harder to read James Joyce or Jim Joyce?

It's the day before Bloomsday and I'm getting ready by reading Ulysses where I last left off...last year.

You see, I've been reading the book for eleven years now. Slow and steady. Pausing to smell the roses. Reading it aloud and hearing the lilt of an Irish brogue. Mimicking it myself. And stopping when it got silly.


I'm getting the feeling more and more that the more I actually feel like reading Ulysses, the more I actually enjoy it.

No longer feeling obligated to trudge through this monumental masterpiece out of some self-imposed idea of earning my Irishness, I now freely enjoy it whenever I please.

Magically, that just so happens to be once a year. This time of year. Around June 16th. Or sometimes March 17th, I guess.

But what the hell does James Joyce's Ulysses have to do with baseball!!!???

I'm coming to that.

So, today I opened to page 383 of my Vintage International edition of Ulysses and started reading the first page of this new episode, The Oxen of the Sun. Then I started over. But then I stopped and started thinking of something else, so I started from the beginning again. I read the nearly full-page paragraph out loud, and silently in my head, to myself. Five or six times. Maybe more. A paragraph wrestling with itsef in an elevated vocabulary without relying on any punctuation.

Hard to read.

Which got me thinking about the man who wrote it and about the baseball umpire who shares the same name.


James Joyce....Jim Joyce



* * *

Reife des Mannes: das heisst der Ernst wiedergefunden haben den man als Kind hatte, beim Spiel

Maturity of Manhood: that is, to have rediscovered the seriousness one had as a child, at play

Nietzsche 4:94
Beyond Good and Evil




* * *





After watching last night's Perfect Game, by Matt Cain, I hope all baseball fans are also immediatley reminded of not only this season's other perfect game, but one of the three that were thrown two years ago; especially the one that never was allowed to be.


Armando Galarraga, DETROIT: June 2, 2010

I think about that umpire, Jim Joyce, and what compelled him to call "safe" at that very moment -- the final moment -- fully aware of the magnitude of such an outcome. But obviously failing to fully appreciate the spirit of the game, in the most profound sense.

Maybe it's more complex than that. A petty, vain man opportunistically exploiting a chance to be in the spotlight (to transcend the invisible authoritarian role they trained you to play) and cynically, instantaneously, reactively reacting, according to an impulse? A deep-seeded impulse for self-promotion, or schadenfreude, or just the reactionary mechanism of another knee-jerk umpire trying to show somebody up?

Well, the majority of mlb players are of the opinion that Joyce is the best ump of them all. An anonymous poll of 100 players found 53 voting Joyce as the best umpire in baseball; far more than the runner-up, Tim McClelland, with 32 votes. Not that I ever attribute much significance to any kind of poll, it just makes the story even more interesting.

His tearful apologies to Galarraga afterwards had to be expected, though, especially given the absolute incorrectnes of the call. But still, it at least makes us question if umpires might actually also be humans after all.

Strong men also cry.


All I know is this: Jim Joyce continues to umpire as a crew chief in the major leagues, while Armando Galarraga is apparently no longer good enough to pitch for any major league team.

The Big L: "What does it mean to be a man, Mr. Lebowski?"
Dude: "Dude"
The Big L: "Huh?"
Dude: "Uggh. I don't know, sir"
The Big L: "Is it being prepared to do the right thing, whatever the cost. Isn't that what makes a man?"
Dude: "Hmmm...Sure, that and a pair of testicles."


I'm imagining the ways in which Galarraga's career would've changed if he'd been awarded his perfect game. He might still be pitching for the Tigers. A Detroit hero, the first Tiger to ever throw a perfect game.

Then I remember how Galarraga handled the whole thing. He brushed it off, saying "nobody's perfect."

Gotta admire that. Mainly because most of us would've been unable to contain our indignation in that situation; at least I know I would, even though I'm a reasonable dude. On the other hand, sure seemed like Galarraga displayed a disproportionate lack of cojones in his non-confrontational acceptance of the obviously terrible call.

Some will tell you he rolled over like a puppy, content with a belly scratch from the Commissioner's office. Others will talk about how Galarraga exemplified what it means "to be a man."

My response to the whole thing was like the sinking stomach effect you get from abrupt changes in gravity or whatever. It didn't feel natural. Neither the bad call nor Galarraga's reaction.


It's kind of frustrating as a fan, because Galarraga's also hard to read. I mean, he's out of a job now. And to be honest, it's not like he ever had the starting job locked down. He must've known this was as close as he'd ever get to greatness (no matter how temporary) or permanence (no matter how consistent). And yet he shrugged his shoulders like a Zen Buddhist at authority, or an older kid faced with the sudden but obvious ridiculousness of children playing his game. He wandered off into obscurity.


And so in speaking of obscurity, we arrive back at the book and this passage in Ulysses which is so obscure to me right now that I feel it best not to rush through it.

I'd rather just go play in the park.

Miyamoto Musashi and the Splendid Splinter

Miyamoto Musashi:

Japanese Swordsman
Samurai Warrior
Painter (Self Portrait on left)
Author of The Book of Five Rings

Ted Williams:

American Batsman

"The Splendid Splinter"
"Teddy Ballgame"
Expert Flyfisherman
Ace Fighter Pilot
Author of The Science of Hitting

These two wizards take a no-nonsense approach to articulating their craft. Without getting too technical here, if we apply Musashi's 5 categories (or "rings") to William's text, the art of both samurai swordsmanship and that of hitting a baseball show interesting parallels. Here's a very quick glance...


Earth -

The Sword: martial arts, leadership, and training are analagous to building a house

The Bat: good, solid base (digging in with the back foot, slightly closed stance w/ front foot open toward pitcher, up on the balls of your feet, balance and weight proportioned evenly, butt and hips ready to start it all), practice, practice, practice.

Water -

The Sword: style, basic technique, fundamental principles

The Bat: fluid flow of power starting with backward cocking of hips to the single motion of hips followed by hands and finally arms

Fire -

The Sword: the heat of battle, different types of timing

The Bat: battle between batter vs. pitcher, hitting the ball hard, focus and concentration, aggressiveness, the importance of timing together with anticipation

Wind -

The Sword: "wind" is the same character as "style" in Japanese. Musashi describes the failings of contemporary schools of swordfighting

The Bat: one's style of hitting need not be changed. Williams describes the failings of contemporary schools of hitting/bunting

Void -

The Sword: zen-influenced thoughts on consciousness and the correct mindset

The Bat: "hitting is 50% from the neck up"


That was a big out. 
There's some serious swagger in the next hitter as he lifts his lumber out of the on-deck circle.
There's a meeting on the mound...