NO THOUGHT TERRIFIES HUMAN BEINGS MORE….:

The Bottom of the Ninth: In baseball and in life, there is a cost to our pursuit of an error-free existence (Elizabeth D. Samet | March 26, 2026, American Scholar)

The 1985 Fall Classic, pitting cross-state rivals against each other, was billed as the I–70 or the Show-Me Series, and it really mattered in Missouri. In the wake of The Call, Denkinger received hundreds of ominous messages and letters. Someone even phoned his house in neighboring Iowa threatening to burn it down. Whether his mistake ultimately affected the outcome of the series became a matter of debate for the participants, too: “If that doesn’t happen,” McRae told reporters, “we probably don’t win.” Jamie Quirk, the Royals’ backup catcher, had a different reaction: “Other things happened, too. … Does a bad call mean you have to lose 11–0 in the next game?” Quirk’s rhetorical question implied that he didn’t want to be remembered as an accidental winner. Although they may readily acknowledge an instance of good fortune, most winners like to believe that they had something to do with their victory. If Orta is out, do the Cardinals win? Who can say? The correct call would have removed only the most egregious mistake from an equation full of mostly hidden variables. Quirk preferred to believe in his own agency rather than imagine himself dependent on what Leo Tolstoy called the unseen “laws of space, time, and cause.” Tolstoy proposed that for winners and losers, belief in autonomy is equally illusory. War and Peace advances a theory of historical causation in which even emperors are powerless: “Napoleon, who seems to us to have been the leader of all these movements … acted like a child who, holding a couple of strings inside a carriage, thinks he is driving it” (tr. by Louise and Aylmer Maude).

…than that no one is in control of events. Free will forces personal accountability.

ALL IN YOUR HEAD:

Dr. Sanjay Gupta explains what we do — and still don’t — know about pain (Marielle Segarra & Margaret Cirino, 4/04/26, Life kit)

In your book, you say that one of the most significant developments emerging in pain treatment is the fact that the brain is at the center of any pain experience. Can you tell us more about why that matters?

What I think has become clear — and I’m not the first person to say this — is the idea that if the brain doesn’t decide you have pain, then you don’t have pain.

The brain can also create pain where it seems like it wouldn’t exist.

“NOBODY CAN THROW THE BALL LIKE CATFISH”:

Bob Dylan, American Culture, and the Songs of Baseball: The iconic singer-songwriter is, naturally, a baseball fan too. (Christopher Barnett, 3/30/26, Pitcher List)

Still, even if May 24, 2006, was unremarkable on the baseball diamond, something Hall of Fame-worthy did happen on that day. At 10 a.m. ET, XM Satellite Radio broadcast the fourth episode of “Theme Time Radio Hour.” The show first aired a few weeks earlier, and, from the outset, it featured a peculiar format: After a noir-ish introduction, beginning with the smoky, sultry lines of a female narrator (“It’s nighttime in the big city”), a series of roughly 15 songs followed. These songs were not gathered according to genre, nor were they sequenced in chronological order. Rather, they were put together thematically. For example, “Theme Time Radio Hour’s” inaugural episode was titled simply “Weather.” Its first song was “Blow Wind Blow” (1953) by Muddy Waters, and its final track was “Keep on the Sunny Side” (1928) by The Carter Family. In between, songs by guitar legend Jimi Hendrix and R&B pioneer Stevie Wonder also appeared, though, despite their respective greatness, Hendrix and Wonder weren’t the biggest stars of the show. That honor would belong to none other than the DJ himself — American singer, songwriter, poet, actor, author, and all-around cultural icon Bob Dylan.

“Theme Time Radio Hour’s” second episode centered on the theme of “Mother,” its third on “Drinking.” But Episode 4, which aired just a few hours before Sabathia’s dominant start in Minneapolis, was dubbed “Baseball.” For those who know Dylan’s work, it’s hardly surprising that he would dedicate an episode of “Theme Time Radio Hour” to the national pastime. Perhaps most famously, he and stage director Jacques Levy (1935-2004) wrote the song “Catfish” in honor of Hall of Fame pitcher Jim “Catfish” Hunter (1946-99), who retired in 1979 as an eight-time All-Star and five-time World Series champion. Dylan recorded the song in July 1975, right in the middle of Hunter’s first year with the Yankees — a forgettable season for the Bronx Bombers but another stellar one for Hunter, who led MLB in wins for the second time in his career. Dylan’s song, however, is less about Hunter’s on-field accomplishments than his path from small-town North Carolina to the bright lights of Yankee Stadium. Over a bluesy acoustic guitar and harmonica, Dylan juxtaposes Hunter’s rustic love of the outdoors with his newfound status as the highest-paid pitcher in MLB history. Yet, the gravelly insouciance of Dylan’s voice suggests that Hunter is worth every penny. As he sings in the chorus, “Catfish, million-dollar man / Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can.”

MORE:
Theme Time Radio Hour: The Annotated “Baseball” Episode (Fred Bals, Nov 18, 2025, Medium)

THE CULTURE WARS ARE A ROUT:

Passion Plays?: Why The Chosen and Stranger Things Captivate Us (Leonie Caldecott, March 30, 2026, Curuch Life Journal)

Then go back to Stranger Things. El is not a Christ-figure. She is not even an angelic figure. She is a superhero, which is an entirely different trope. Superheroes are simply power-endowed human beings. What they do with that power is the hinge on which everything turns. El extracts herself from her compromising situation in a very different way from Judas. She surrenders the power to harm. My gut feeling is that this motive does not actually endorse suicide. It simply endorses sacrifice: of known security, known life. Beyond that, we do not get to follow her.

Back to The Chosen. The point about Jesus is that while both human and divine, he is precisely not a superhero. He will not, as Judas believes, slay his enemies at the last moment: that has never been his MO. Judas’s main flaw is a failure of the imagination, which you could characterize as, simply, bad theology. This is the scandal of Christianity. The author of life, in some way, must die. The Christ will descend, voluntarily, into the valley of bones, through the agony of the Passion. The agony of defeat: of real, absolute, undeniable death. Already in the Garden of Gethsemane, we see him being mentally tortured by what is coming, and by the sleepiness and fearfulness of his followers. Nicodemus caught in his ivory tower trying to belatedly join the dots. Peter and James and John bewildered and afraid. The apostles clutching a few primitive weapons as a ten-ton-truck hurtles down the infested freeway of hell.

No one is on point. No one is going to win. Jesus knows all this. His human body is racked with fear and troubled to the point of collapse. But he goes to meet his betrayer anyway. What follows is the cry of the innocent the world over and through to our time, this time, this terrible moment in history. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

God had to experience the Fall in order to fully comprehend us, and, thereby, forgive us.

CONSERVING THE CENTER:

Can Danielle Allen Save Academe From Itself?: The Harvard political theorist is the sector’s most interesting reformer. (Charlie Tyson, March 20, 2026, Chronicle Review)

Was it a pep talk or a provocation? Allen’s response, in October, to the Trump administration’s “Compact for Academic Excellence in Higher Education” had elements of both.

The proffered “compact” marked a grim phase in the Trump administration’s dealings with elite universities. The letter from the U.S. Department of Education, sent to nine leading universities, offered a leg up in federal funding to universities willing to accept a broad range of conditions — including “abolishing institutional units” that “belittle” conservative ideas, defining “male” and “female” “according to reproductive function and biological processes,” and ensuring that foreign students “are introduced to, and supportive of, American and Western values.” Such demands left many on campus feeling a bleaker-than-usual sense of persecution. In one characteristic opinion essay, Lisa Fazio and Brendan Nyhan, professors at Vanderbilt University and Dartmouth College, respectively, called the deal a “devil’s bargain,” warning that “any institution that yields to these broad and intrusive demands would give up its legal rights and forever be subservient to the whims of the government.”

Allen’s reply went against the prevailing mood. In an essay titled “Why I’m Excited About the White House’s Proposal for a Higher Ed Compact,” published on her Substack before appearing in these pages, she framed the compact as an opportunity for universities to work in concert to develop a package of higher-ed reforms. While urging university leaders to reject the compact as written, she insisted that universities needed “to talk to each other” to arrive at some deal that would address the sector’s problems. (Rules intended to prevent collusion on tuition, she told me, have hampered cross-institutional collaboration.)

“By allowing civic education to erode, by abandoning a commitment to pluralism that includes viewpoint diversity, and by failing to achieve approaches to admissions and credentialing that are broadly experienced as fair,” she wrote, “universities have failed to contribute as they might” to the health of American democracy.

In staking out this position, Allen was elaborating upon an essay she’d published some months before in The Atlantic. That essay proposed several concrete reforms through which universities might begin to establish “a new social contract” with the American people. Elite institutions, Allen argued, should move toward lottery admissions so that students who clear a certain merit threshold are selected by geographic or socioeconomic criteria. (In addition to fostering “cultural cohesion,” she told me, a lottery would curb the “meritocratic arrogance that is a feature of our current system.”) Selective universities, she suggested, should increase the size of their undergraduate-student bodies. They should experiment with three-year degrees as a way of controlling tuition costs. And they should support “viewpoint diversity” through faculty recruitment and perhaps by establishing two-year visiting professorships for scholars in right-leaning think tanks.

For decades, higher-ed policy has, via investments in STEM education, focused on national security and economic productivity. We have, Allen warned, neglected the university’s deeper purpose, which is the maintenance and fortification of civic strength.

To many observers of higher education, such ideas seem reasonable and overdue. Aspects of Allen’s agenda, however, might seem to align suspiciously well with emerging trends that many scholars view as noxious. In recent years, a spate of civics institutes and Great Books programs has arisen across the nation. Many of these programs are conspicuously conservative. Gov. Bill Lee, a Republican of Tennessee, announced a $6-million civics institute at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville as a way of fighting “anti-American thought”; the University of Florida’s Hamilton School for Classical and Civic Education was conceived, by a shadowy nonprofit called the Council on Public University Reform, as a countermove against “cancel culture and uniformity of opinion on campus.” Tens of millions of dollars in grants awarded by the National Endowment for the Humanities, in January, went to support professorships in programs in civic leadership and Western civilization — programs some faculty regard as affirmative action for right-leaning scholars at a time when jobs in the humanities are punishingly scarce.

Allen believes, Ober told me, that the new civics institutes, even those mandated by legislators with an “ideological agenda,” could play a role in strengthening democracy. “Danielle is saying, let’s work and try to make them part of the solution rather than marginalizing them and saying they’re impure.” (Ober is a co-director of the Stanford Civics Initiative.)

While Allen singled out UT-Knoxville’s civics program for praise, she was cautiously measured in describing the curricular battles that have engulfed the humanities. “Some of the critiques that conservatives have made about college curricula are sound,” she told me. “We haven’t taught enough bread-and-butter basics of U.S. history, constitutionalism, and the like. Some of the critiques from Black studies, which require us to expand our horizon of what voices matter, are also sound.”

Is this fairmindedness simply — centrism? For some of Allen’s collaborators and admirers, the appeal of her higher-ed reformism lies in its promise to reorient academic discourse around the center. Paul Carrese, director of Arizona State University’s Center for American Civics, sees Allen’s project as “rebuilding a broad middle” in higher education. He hopes that Allen-style civic education might help alleviate the angry polarization that characterizes contemporary American political life. “More critical, radical views farther to the left, farther to the right — in a way, these views might be too prominent right now,” Carrese told me. “The focus should be on expanding the center and a healthy culture of Socratic dialogue across center-left and center-right.”

…AND CHEAPER…:

Economists Once Dismissed the A.I. Job Threat, but Not Anymore (Ben Casselman, April 3, 2026, NY Times)

In a working paper published this week, a team of researchers surveyed economists about their outlook over the next five and 25 years. Most expect the economy to grow a bit more quickly as A.I. improves, but not to diverge substantially from historical patterns. If the technology improves rapidly — a possibility they consider unlikely but plausible — they envision a far more drastic scenario with faster growth but also greater inequality and the disappearance of millions of jobs.

“Economists are certainly taking A.I. seriously,” said Ezra Karger, an economist at the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago who was one of the study’s authors.

BUT WHAT DOES THE rIGHT/lEFT HAVE LEFT IF THEY ACCEPT THE FACTS?:

Behind the Scenes with Oren Cass, Policy-Based Evidence Maker: A Revealing Email Exchange (Scott Winship, Apr 02, 2026, First World Problems)


Our saga begins with a chart in a paper I wrote and ends with a sentence in a new American Compass report citing me. In late 2022, I wrote Bringing Home the Bacon, which examined whether the evolution of young men’s earnings could explain the sharp decline in sole-breadwinner families or the dramatic increase in single motherhood. Many populists argue that a deterioration in men’s economic standing has led to these changes. My report showed that real median annual compensation among young men was essentially the same in 2019 as in 1969 and that by various “marriageability” thresholds, young men were “at, near, or above historic highs.” That ruled out declining male earnings an explanation for the striking changes in the family that occurred over this period.

In my paper, I made a number of conservative methodological choices because I wanted to show that male marriageability had not declined even using methods that worked against that result. Nevertheless, in public events, podcasts, and even the inaugural post for his “Understanding America” Substack, Cass highlighted that young men’s earnings were lower or no higher than “50 years ago.” He did so again during our 2024 debate on the state of the economy.

After the latter, I took to X to share some updated results that I didn’t get a chance to mention in the debate. I indicated that, using an improved price index that I had developed earlier that month, young men’s real median post-tax compensation rose 20 percent from 1973 to 2019, or $7,200, and rose 24 percent ($8,500) from 1989 to 2019. Optimistically, I wrote, regarding whether young men’s earnings have stagnated over 50 years, “I’ll trust my chart doesn’t get cited anymore in support of that claim!” I also stated unambiguously that, “In case it’s not clear, the chart [showing stagnant earnings] was what I considered the best evidence then, but it is not the best evidence now. You [Cass] can still cite it, obviously, but you should either say why you think it is still the best evidence or clarify that you don’t care.”

“AGAINST THAT INCREDIBLE WEIGHT”:

Gillian Welch: This Land is Her Land (Jewly Hight, April 1, 2026, Bitter Southerner)

It pleases Welch when songs prove to be malleable in meaning. “I love that Dave and I kill ourselves working to make things just so,” she says, “and then we put them out there into the world and they can do anything and mean anything to anybody. That’s why we work so hard on them.” But there is one way of interpreting the spirit of their music that bothers her: “If someone were to think that our songs are maudlin or pessimistic, I would be shocked. Because I hear them as strong, quiet. I think if you really digest those narratives, there’s an incredible undercurrent of perseverance. When we’re singing those songs, we think the people are going to make it through.” Lange had a similar perspective on the people she photographed weathering the cruel deprivations of the Depression. “I many times encountered courage,” she told a Smithsonian archivist. “Real courage. Undeniable courage.”

There’s another point upon which Welch is insistent: she and Rawlings haven’t walled their material off in the past by depicting characters in the throes of displacement, hardship, and economic precarity. She throws out hypothetical questions: “Do people not still have children who die tragic early deaths? Of course they do. Do people not still take narcotics to try to ease the pain for a moment? Of course they do.” “One More Dollar,” her song about the inner turmoil of a migrant worker caught between the necessity of toiling for meager but essential pay and a longing to be back with the people they love, has powerful resonance at a time when when ICE raids — blatantly driven by racial profiling and often targeting businesses staffed by immigrants — have created life and death stakes nationwide.

Welch’s singing, initially squarely in the austere Appalachian tradition, has developed a miraculous blend of leanness and litheness over the years. Her recordings of “Dark Turn of Mind,” on 2011’s The Harrow & The Harvest, and “Here Stands a Woman,” on 2024’s Woodland, are fine examples; she applies her reedy instrument to supple slides, bluesy bends, and insinuating phrasing. What comes through in Welch’s vocals is a sense of bearing up beneath the weight of the world.

When I describe this quality, she confirms that she feels it too, and points to the influence of Jerry Garcia’s singing. Recently, she tried to turn a friend on to the Dead, and received a disappointing reaction. “They just sound really tired to me,” the friend commented dismissively. That left Welch feeling at least partially justified: “I said, ‘Well, yes, of course they’re tired. They’re touring musicians. They’re exhausted. But don’t you hear that [Garcia’s] constantly pushing up against that incredible weight?’”

So many folk and country songs pine for the idealized and unchanging old home place and the saintly, nurturing mother figure who waits there. But there’s an equally long tradition of ballads of the rambling, rootless, implicitly male troubadour. The Dead served as colorful embodiments of the latter role, and Nevins, Welch’s college buddy, could see her migrating toward it before she’d formally chosen music as her vocation.

THE REVOLUTION EATS ITSELF:

The Historical Irony of Feminism’s Silencing of Women (Abigail Favale, November 30, 2021, Church Life Journal)


When I was in graduate school, I remember reading an essay in which Jacques Derrida purports to “write as a woman.” I was in a gender studies program in a highly secular context, and we had a lively seminar on Derrida’s essay, eventually reaching the consensus that no, Jacques, you can’t simply step into a woman’s identity like you might step into a set of trousers. This was the mid-2000s, a different era, when the word “woman” still had some fleeting connection, however tenuous, to female embodiment.

Now, fifteen years later, we have reached a juncture where appropriating the identity of women is considered laudatory, liberating, the next frontier of civil rights—and raising cautions or questions is blasphemous. Increasingly, defining a woman as an adult human female is considered hate speech.

ALL FOOD IS AMERICAN FOOD:

The Decision That Would Create a Permanent American Underclass (Padma Lakshmi, 4/01/26, NY Times)

The principle predates the Constitution. Our colonial history brought the tradition over from the British, who recognized that birth on a nation’s soil carried citizenship. Later, after the shameful Dred Scott decision of 1857 denied citizenship to Black Americans, the nation fought a Civil War and corrected that injustice for all future Americans with the 14th Amendment. Designed to reflect America’s diverse identity, it codified birthright citizenship and placed citizenship beyond the whims of any one politician.

The law on birthright citizenship is clear, and a majority of Americans support it. But Mr. Trump refuses to accept limits on his ethnic gatekeeping and his attempts to bend the Constitution to his will. And he fails to recognize that birthright citizenship is American culture.

Our country’s cuisine shows it. I regularly work with chefs who blend their ancestral recipes with local staples to bring us meals that forge a culture for all of us. In the United States, we savor flavors from around the world precisely because birthright citizenship has been the law of the land for generations. I’ve visited the Nigerian American community in Houston, where the suya spice brought me back to the masala of my own childhood. I’ve eaten the cuisine of Cambodian refugees, as well as their children and grandchildren, in Lowell, Mass. And I’ve slurped delicious ceviche with Peruvian chefs in hipster Brooklyn.


America is interesting and strong because of the contributions of immigrants and their children, mixing with the ingredients of other cultures and evolving over time, creating both a blend of the world’s cuisines and our own unique food culture all at once.