October 23, 2016

THE GRANDFATHER JUDD KEPT HIS IN FOUNTAIN PEN...:

The Art of the Box Score : It's hard to enjoy baseball if you don't know what you're looking for. And the box score teaches you how to do just that. (Kelsey McKinney, 10/17/16, )

My dad only uses blue pens, the type that come in packs of twelve and have nibs a little too big so that the ink runs together if you don't write in blocky capitals like he does, especially if the pen has overheated in the afternoon sun. He'd have them in the front pocket of his shirt when we'd scramble out of the car with our gloves and our snacks. Tickets in hand, we'd weave through the crowds into the Rangers' Ballpark in Arlington that my dad called the Temple and find a spot in the blistering hot stands to watch batting practice.

The pen would come out when the screen in center field showed the names of that afternoon's lineup. Together, we would build the box. He would draw the lines for the innings, write the names on the left hand side of the yellow legal pad, sing the national anthem. The box score, when finished, looked like a cluster of small squares, one per batter per at bat. At the top, inning numbers labeled the vertical columns. The horizontal columns showed each batter's performance. In the printed versions that come with the five-dollar game program, each box would have a diamond printed to represent the field. But I don't remember using those. We always drew ours. 

Once the box was drawn, we would wait. In the shoeboxes full of keepsakes I've moved from apartment to apartment, from where I grew up in Texas to a big coastal city, there are dozens of these yellow pieces of paper. The ink has faded now, but it was smudged to begin with--the running blue lines falling into each other in my uncertain childhood hand.


..then again, he did the Times Crossword that way too.

Posted by at October 23, 2016 9:24 AM

  

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