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[This is part of a series exploring the Baseball Tarot. If you would like to prompt for a part of the game or a card from the deck, all the rest of the month is available for your curiosity, about either baseball or Tarot. Leave a comment with a prompt if you want in. All other comments are still welcome, of course.]
As a game that appears to be mostly periods of rest punctuated by periods of furious action, it should not be surprising that there are more than a few liminal spaces in baseball, the places in between that are full of potential before resolving into an actual. Just about any time the ball is in flight, anything could happen.
On the field, however, there is a space specifically designated as an in between spot, one area for each team. Everything else has a purpose and point defined in relation to the action - the dugout holds the players not on the field, the bases represent progress points, the foul lines define areas where different rules apply, the stands hold the fanatics and also define the places where the field of play truly and properly ends.
Only the on-deck circle exists solely as a holding stage, and the player occupying that area is the sole person outside the dugout who is not actively involved in every pitch and play. They are, like the base coaches, expressly forbidden from interacting with any live ball, but they don't want to wait in the dugout with everyone else because they are the next batter in line, and there are penalties for any team that sends their players to bat out of the order specified on the lineup card (unless they are making substitutions).
Being on deck, then, is occupying the space of pure potential. The player slated to bat next may not actually do so should the defense turn in enough outs to finish the inning. (Which is why you may see the catcher wearing their leg armor in the circle, just in case they have to switch from offense to defense quickly.) The player there has their bat in hand, and often is staying loose or trying to time the pitcher's speed with practice swings while they wait. There's nobody else to talk to, and nothing to do, specifically, other than wait. It's a perfect place for analyzing the pitcher, the game, and one's own plan for the upcoming at-bat. If there's a rabbit hole inside to get lost in, or something outside the game that threatens to intrude, the on-deck circle is a place where it can break through and have to be dealt with before the hitter is ready to approach the plate and focus on the pitches being thrown.
The card here, when it does up in your reading, is not about anticipation - anticipation is exactly wrong when on deck, because anticipation is too concerned with what hasn't happened yet and may not happen at all. It's not taking care of the practicalities of the here and now, and it's not utilizing the waiting time effectively to gather information about the game unfolding right in front of the player.
On Deck has a certain meditative quality to it - the past has no place there, and no people to remind us of it. The future hasn't happened yet, because it is still resolving, and really, there's no use worrying about it. You can plan and make reasonable conclusions based on observations about how the future might turn out, but maybe the inning ends and you have to go up and hit in a completely different scenario. Or a completely different game. The only thing that's certain is the present moment. Observe everything, without trying to change it, and take note of any insights that might arrive. Focus without attachment to outcome of desire, so that you are ready when your time arrives. Breathe. Stay loose. Take a few practice cuts, time the pitcher, get into the state of mind that is ready to accept whatever comes next, regardless of what that actually is.
As a game that appears to be mostly periods of rest punctuated by periods of furious action, it should not be surprising that there are more than a few liminal spaces in baseball, the places in between that are full of potential before resolving into an actual. Just about any time the ball is in flight, anything could happen.
On the field, however, there is a space specifically designated as an in between spot, one area for each team. Everything else has a purpose and point defined in relation to the action - the dugout holds the players not on the field, the bases represent progress points, the foul lines define areas where different rules apply, the stands hold the fanatics and also define the places where the field of play truly and properly ends.
Only the on-deck circle exists solely as a holding stage, and the player occupying that area is the sole person outside the dugout who is not actively involved in every pitch and play. They are, like the base coaches, expressly forbidden from interacting with any live ball, but they don't want to wait in the dugout with everyone else because they are the next batter in line, and there are penalties for any team that sends their players to bat out of the order specified on the lineup card (unless they are making substitutions).
Being on deck, then, is occupying the space of pure potential. The player slated to bat next may not actually do so should the defense turn in enough outs to finish the inning. (Which is why you may see the catcher wearing their leg armor in the circle, just in case they have to switch from offense to defense quickly.) The player there has their bat in hand, and often is staying loose or trying to time the pitcher's speed with practice swings while they wait. There's nobody else to talk to, and nothing to do, specifically, other than wait. It's a perfect place for analyzing the pitcher, the game, and one's own plan for the upcoming at-bat. If there's a rabbit hole inside to get lost in, or something outside the game that threatens to intrude, the on-deck circle is a place where it can break through and have to be dealt with before the hitter is ready to approach the plate and focus on the pitches being thrown.
The card here, when it does up in your reading, is not about anticipation - anticipation is exactly wrong when on deck, because anticipation is too concerned with what hasn't happened yet and may not happen at all. It's not taking care of the practicalities of the here and now, and it's not utilizing the waiting time effectively to gather information about the game unfolding right in front of the player.
On Deck has a certain meditative quality to it - the past has no place there, and no people to remind us of it. The future hasn't happened yet, because it is still resolving, and really, there's no use worrying about it. You can plan and make reasonable conclusions based on observations about how the future might turn out, but maybe the inning ends and you have to go up and hit in a completely different scenario. Or a completely different game. The only thing that's certain is the present moment. Observe everything, without trying to change it, and take note of any insights that might arrive. Focus without attachment to outcome of desire, so that you are ready when your time arrives. Breathe. Stay loose. Take a few practice cuts, time the pitcher, get into the state of mind that is ready to accept whatever comes next, regardless of what that actually is.
