Inside the Box

Math and I are not friends. Not even mere acquaintances. In fact, I hate numbers altogether.

I single-handedly shatter the stereotype of Asians being proficient in mathematics. To smithereens. Shards and slivers. My math SATs scores probably equal the size that I take my jeans in. Twenty-five, if you must know … I just lost seven pounds.

I took Algebra THREE times in high school. I don’t balance my own checkbook. If I’m fifty cents off- give or take, in either direction, it’s good enough for me. I loathe Sudoku. I think Count Dracula (on Sesame Street) is a top notch A-hole. I hate it all. Whole numbers. Fractions. Real. Rational. Integers. Complex numbers—they’re all complex to me.

But put those numbers in organized columns of statistics in a baseball box score and it’s like translating my native tongue. I am fluent in the language of baseball.

Do you speak baseball? Because it’s truly a game of numbers. And inches. Innings. And outs.

They all add up to tell a story. Every single game. Just ask Bill James or Henry Chadwick.

Allow me to be your interpreter.

One hundred sixty-two games in a season. Eighty one of these on the road.

Two teams.

Nine innings. Nine players on the field. Three outs per inning. Four called balls for a base on balls. Or three strikes and you’re out. But one clean hit and you're on.

Ninety feet each between four bases.

A pitcher. A batter. Two minds. One war.

A 95 MPH fast ball can sail 90 feet, 6 inches from the pitcher’s mound through a “conceptual three-dimensional right angle pentagonal prism” of a strike zone over 17 inches of home plate. (That takes precision. Skill)

Now, these--these are numbers that mean something to me. Not to mention batting averages, ERAs, RBI, and all the rest of the yummy defensive and offensive statistical ingredients to make a delicious ‘Moneyball’ and sabermetrics sammich. Mmmm. Tasty.

Because you add up all these random numbers and you’ve got yourself a ball game, folks. And if you have the right equation and maybe if you’re good enough, you just might have the opportunity to play seven games* (if necessary) to win that ONE magnificent title. The World Series.

And even then, it sometimes still doesn’t add up. Just ask the A’s. And the Dodgers. The Indians… you see where I'm going with this?

And you wonder why Cubs fans have been agonizing over The Title for better part of 101 years?

You do the math …