True story. Not kidding. Local baseball game in a very rural setting: Vast expense of land with no more than a village’s worth of population scattered widely along a single two-lane country road. Summer evening with a pleasant temperature: This rural area is in the local highlands. The field borders the property of the local church, a mountain stream, and a public Commons with a playground and picnic pavilion. Some fans, mostly relatives, and some locals are present. Playoff game in the area’s men’s league. Peaceful.
No fence in right. A visiting team player hits a long fly to right beyond the running reach of the right fielder. The baseball hits the ground just inside the foul line maybe 340 feet from home plate, far enough in most stadia to be a homerun over a typical right field fence. The ball rolls, and rolls, and rolls, coming to rest under a truck beyond the playing field. The umpire declares ground rule double. Okay. The play continues.
Later in the game a home team player hits a ball to right. He hits it well. The visiting right fielder goes back. The ball hits the top of his glove and lands on a dirt pile. He picks up the ball and throws hard back to an infielder. The umpire declares “homerun.”
Brouhaha. Big time. One fan, sitting along the third base line, there to support the visiting team, complains—loudly, very, very loudly. “How can you call the one a double and that one a home run? Go back to umpire school if you ever went to one!” Then—how should I write it? “!@!@!@@@@@!!!”
A home team fan, sitting far down the right field line, yells in return. The argument traverses the more than 300 feet between the two fans. It gets louder. The umpire, following league rules and standing closer to the irate visitor, takes offense at the language, and says, “Sir, you will have to leave.”
You can guess. The visiting fan goes into a tirade against the umpire and the distant home team fan simultaneously. Eventually, he walks away, but, instead of going to his car and leaving, he chooses to walk the right field line to confront the guy in the distance. They argue. People gather to see there’s no physical contact. The home team fan has to the uneducated eye an apparent heart attack. The ambulance arrives. The home team players and a couple of the visiting players try to restore some order, but the heart attack victim is one of the player’s relatives. That player needs corralling to keep him from going after the visiting fan in anger. The visiting fan gets into his car and leaves, still irate. The police arrive. No doubt someone will file a lawsuit. No doubt the police will have to investigate further. A couple of lawyers not even present at the game are going to make some money. No doubt.
Seems silly, doesn’t it? A brouhaha over an umpire’s call in a peaceful, beautiful rural setting has permanently altered lives. Not just the lives of the arguing fans, but the lives of their loved ones, also.
Again, the setting: Vast beautiful rural area with a gathering of the only species in the universe known to have the capacity for complex rational thought and the ability to overcome primal urges through peaceful conflict resolutions. A game—a seemingly pleasant diversion of exercise and fun to distract from the harsh realities of daily life—takes place beside what are literally a “babbling brook,” a country church, and a village Commons.
Get Google Earth now: Pull away at increasing distances. The field gets smaller and smaller. You see the entire village, the sparsely populated landscape, and farmland. Look down till all of the rural area occupies no more than a pixel on your screen. See that tiny pixel? Peaceful no more. Beautiful no more.
Now pull away even farther till Earth occupies a single pixel. Brouhahas in a pixel.
No fence in right. A visiting team player hits a long fly to right beyond the running reach of the right fielder. The baseball hits the ground just inside the foul line maybe 340 feet from home plate, far enough in most stadia to be a homerun over a typical right field fence. The ball rolls, and rolls, and rolls, coming to rest under a truck beyond the playing field. The umpire declares ground rule double. Okay. The play continues.
Later in the game a home team player hits a ball to right. He hits it well. The visiting right fielder goes back. The ball hits the top of his glove and lands on a dirt pile. He picks up the ball and throws hard back to an infielder. The umpire declares “homerun.”
Brouhaha. Big time. One fan, sitting along the third base line, there to support the visiting team, complains—loudly, very, very loudly. “How can you call the one a double and that one a home run? Go back to umpire school if you ever went to one!” Then—how should I write it? “!@!@!@@@@@!!!”
A home team fan, sitting far down the right field line, yells in return. The argument traverses the more than 300 feet between the two fans. It gets louder. The umpire, following league rules and standing closer to the irate visitor, takes offense at the language, and says, “Sir, you will have to leave.”
You can guess. The visiting fan goes into a tirade against the umpire and the distant home team fan simultaneously. Eventually, he walks away, but, instead of going to his car and leaving, he chooses to walk the right field line to confront the guy in the distance. They argue. People gather to see there’s no physical contact. The home team fan has to the uneducated eye an apparent heart attack. The ambulance arrives. The home team players and a couple of the visiting players try to restore some order, but the heart attack victim is one of the player’s relatives. That player needs corralling to keep him from going after the visiting fan in anger. The visiting fan gets into his car and leaves, still irate. The police arrive. No doubt someone will file a lawsuit. No doubt the police will have to investigate further. A couple of lawyers not even present at the game are going to make some money. No doubt.
Seems silly, doesn’t it? A brouhaha over an umpire’s call in a peaceful, beautiful rural setting has permanently altered lives. Not just the lives of the arguing fans, but the lives of their loved ones, also.
Again, the setting: Vast beautiful rural area with a gathering of the only species in the universe known to have the capacity for complex rational thought and the ability to overcome primal urges through peaceful conflict resolutions. A game—a seemingly pleasant diversion of exercise and fun to distract from the harsh realities of daily life—takes place beside what are literally a “babbling brook,” a country church, and a village Commons.
Get Google Earth now: Pull away at increasing distances. The field gets smaller and smaller. You see the entire village, the sparsely populated landscape, and farmland. Look down till all of the rural area occupies no more than a pixel on your screen. See that tiny pixel? Peaceful no more. Beautiful no more.
Now pull away even farther till Earth occupies a single pixel. Brouhahas in a pixel.
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