[Note: I mistakenly published a draft of this post on May 27, 2010. This is the revised version.]
In early April The Wall Street Journal published an interview with George Will, which was mostly about baseball, instead of politics. In it Mr. Will explained why he doesn’t keep score much anymore:
"I don’t keep score as often as I used to, because the modern scoreboard is so good, with pitch counts, balls, strikes, and what he did last at-bat. It’s not clear why you need to keep score other than for keeping your head in the game."*
Mr. Will’s comment is both right and wrong. He is right when he says that keeping score helps you pay attention to the game. You can’t keep score unless you pay attention. You are less likely to miss something if you are keeping score. Also, keeping score helps you get into the flow of the game. By knowing what has happened and what is happening, you will have a feel for might happen. Who might pinch hit; who might pitch next; etc.
But Mr. Will’s comment is wrong, too. It is wrong if you are watching a game at Wrigley Field. Our scoreboard doesn’t show all those things. The way you know those things at Wrigley Field, the way you stay in the game, is by keeping score.
But there is an even more important reason to keep score: For the memories. Baseball is a game of memories. And when you keep score, you are creating memories. Years later, you can look at a scorecard and know what happened that day. You can relive a game from a week ago or 40 years ago by looking at your scorecard. Every once in a while, something unusual or even unique will happen, and your scorecard will reinforce your memory of that play or that game and of the fact you were there when baseball history was made.
But mostly, it is the memories of great wins, or occasionally a sad defeat, that you preserve with paper and pencil. The win in the playoffs; the loss in the playoffs. That game on Father's Day (or Mother's Day). The Opening Day when it was so cold (which is most of them). Your scorecard is the gateway to your memories of great games and great days.
Sometimes, when you are looking at old scorecards, you will see something, or discover you saw someone, that you didn’t realize at the time. In looking through some old scorecards recently, I found that, at the very first minor league game I ever went to, the manager for the West Haven Yankees was Bob Cox. Yes, that Bobby Cox. Another time I found I was there for Ryne Sandberg’s first hit in Wrigley Field – when he was with the Philadelphia Phillies; his only hit for a team other than the Cubs.
Baseball's memories are like treasures. And keeping score is the best way to preserve those memories.
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* Robert Costa, "Baseball: ‘The Right Sport for a Democracy,’" The Wall Street Journal, April 10, 2010.
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