Sense, Nonsense, and Not-Sense

[This is the very last of a series exploring the Baseball Tarot. It's been a fantastic journey with all of you, and I hope that it has been helpful to you in your own journeys.]

Here we are. The last card remaining, deliberately chosen as the last of the Major cards, representing what is the final stop of any given season - the World Series. At this point in time, several teams were eliminated at the end of the season from continuing, and yet others in the playoff series, culminating in this, the champions of the American League and the National League facing each other for the Major League Baseball title. Many players will go their entire careers, some destined for the Hall of Fame, without even setting foot on this stage. The World Series, even though it is poorly named, is the thing that all seasons strive to reach and then win, a cycle that begins anew each year with the realization that in the eyes of the win-loss columns, all teams start equal. The influence of the Rookie right next door spills over, planting the seeds of a new beginning right in the middle of what is supposed to be the end. If we can only solve the Last Question at the end of the universe, even at that point, the seeds have been laid to begin it again, and work on solving the question one more time. We are born, we age, we get sick, we die. We are born again and the cycle continues.

Some people get to the Series early, others later. Some can go more than once, although the nature of baseball, its rather punishing season and propensity for teams imploding down the stretch and in the playoffs makes it hard for any one team to return the next year, much less win it. Baseball does not create dynasties, and those that try to exist are usually powered by unsustainable amounts of spending.

What I find interesting about this card, and its Rider-Waite equivalent, The World, is that this card is not and doesn't signify winning the World Series, just getting there. The culmination of a lot of hard work and dreams and stories and training and everything else that's in this deck, but not actually winning the games. That still has yet to be done. The season is not yet finished - four more wins are required before a team can hoist the trophy. Everything that has come before is important, informative, and provides the background, but there are still games to be played and won, and only the things that happen in the now will determine how it all turns out. Vegas may have odds, but odds are only guesses based on past performance. There are no foregone conclusions. The games can play out in any way at all - the powerhouses can choke, a pitcher can throw better or worse than expected, a manager can call up a trick play, or what should be a routine ground ball ends up slipping under the glove and through the legs of first base and the winning run scores from third. Everything is still possible. Even at this point, the arrival at the last series of the post-season, the games ahead are full of infinite potential.

Perhaps it's a design thing about Tarot decks that they have the ability to speak positive aspects and negative aspects and otherwise encompass the full range of experience and possibility in each card and in the deck as a whole. Maybe it's because we're humans and we want our cognitive assistance tools to do that, when they could be much more definite about their usage and meaning. But that even here, at what would normally be the spot to put in the most "Congratulations, you have achieved your victory! Revel in it!" card that you could find, there is still ambiguity and the possibility of things not going as well as we had hoped. After all, there are still two teams playing in the World Series. People remember the winning team, but there's still another one there, and they have to deal with having been the team that made it all the way to the end and came up short. It can be devastating to the psyche, it can be the bubble popping, the end of the Cinderella story, or it can be a team completely proud of the achievements they have done that season and entirely at peace with not having won it all. Sometimes the people most disappointed in how a team does in any given year are the fanatics, who expected their team to be better than they were. (Those whose expectations have always been fairly low are instead pleasantly surprised when their team does better than expected.) The fanatics may have more of their identity invested in the team than the players do, and so they are more strongly affected by the swings of fate and business dealings. One of the things that gets obscured, except when buying tickets and concessions or reading about contracts, is that baseball is a business that makes billions of dollars, and that the things that result in a good baseball team may not be the same as those that make a profitable one. The balance between being profitable and spending enough to attract enough fanatics to be profitable are important business considerations, and they interfere with decisions that would be made to create a good baseball team.

Infinite Potential in every pitch, every swing, every call, every time ball meets bat. Every out, every inning, every game, every season. To get here, to the World Series, one generally passes through all the other cards first, gathering experience and karma and knowledge along the way. But, as we noted at the beginning of this series, counting works in both directions. It's entirely possible that someone can walk their way back, taking the skills they learned as an All-Star, developing the mental state of the Rookie to new situations, and arriving at the great successes needed to achieve the World Series. It's rare, but it's possible.

The presence of the World Series in your reading indicates that you have had great success in your season and you are now ready to take on one of the biggest stages of your career. Your work has paid off, your team is strong, and now its time to go play for the big one. Good luck on winning.

If the happy context doesn't make sense, the downside of the World Series is being somewhere that you are utterly unprepared for. You've become yet another example of the Peter Principle, promoted to the level of your incompetence, and there's a good chance you are going to go splat on the biggest stage possible. Now might be a good time to talk to your manager of the coaches to try and get up to the standard. If you can't do that, now might be a good time to ask to be benched until you can get the actual skills needed to participate.

And thus, we are finished. I'm so glad I got all the way through the deck. I also hope that this has been somehow helpful to all of you that are reading, whether in your own decks and practices, or in giving you some insight into the Game of Nerds and why there are so many people still loyal to it.

If there are any remaining questions, about the cards, about baseball, or other things, feel free to ask them, including on their card pages. If you would like more depth on anything you've read, please ask.

Thank you all for taking this journey with me. Maybe I'll see you again for something else in the future.

[This is part of a series exploring the Baseball Tarot.]

Baseball is mean. It is a game designed to crush streaks, humble braggarts, punish mistakes, suppress the unskilled, provide ample opportunities for failure, create tension, pressure, and stress, and generate chaos despite the very best attempts of anyone to impose any sort of order or general rules and abstractions on it.

Baseball is a nice game. It rewards persistence, has opportunities for big plays all the time, promotes teamwork and communication, fosters camaraderie, provides multiple layers of enjoyment, and is really good at keeping people who are introduced to the game as players continuing on in the game as coaches and umpires, even if their dreams of playing stop. It has mentorship, physical, and mental challenges, and promotes fun.

As with life, the constant of baseball is that it changes. While there is a moment of stilness before the action begins, after that, the game is in constant motion, even with the changes between half-innings, until it is finished and all the celebrations are done. If things are going well, that's great, but understand it's not forever. If things suck, well, that won't last perpetually either. Them's The Breaks, kid.

The Breaks is the Baseball Tarot equivalent of the Wheel of Fortune. Not the glorified game of hangman with a randomized element, but the songs and lyrics of Carmina Burana that talk about people who are on top of the world and those getting thrown out of pubs, despite being the abbot of the nearby monastery. The Wheel is always in constant motion, with all of us attached to it as it raises us to our highest points and also grinds us into the mud. This reality is fundamentally counterintuitive to human beliefs. Humans see patterns and ascribe motivations to them, so that things can be explained as "hot", "cold", "lucky", "unfavorable", or other things that are not explainable with the models of simulation and calculation that we have. There are ways of trying to prolong the good and shorten the bad, many of which are superstitious, many of which involve prayer to a supernatural entity of your choice. There are other ways as well, things involving charms and rituals and attempts at preparation for the bad things, which sometimes are adequate and sometimes are so far beyond the scope of what could be considered that no preparation would be sufficient for them. The reality that the universe is still so very far out of our explanation and control is frightening and scary and persists, even in baseball. Someone may not have the skills to progress beyond minor league baseball. A batter may hit a ball back at a pitcher sufficiently hard to end his career through head injury. Sliding into second may cause a ligament tear that requires a lot of physical therapy, recovery, and retraining before someone is able to return to the place where they were. These are all possible outcomes, even with all the strength, exercise, and experience that someone may have in baseball. Ultimately, retirement claims us all, and some earlier than others. Those, too, are The Breaks.

Of course, it works in reverse, too. A man who could not run the bases at full speed hits a home run to win a game, allowing him to take all the time he needs to circle the bases. A hitter staring down an 0-for-5 night ends up going 1-for-5, with the winning run batted in on a bloop single. A team bats around (goes through the entire batting order at least once in a half-inning). A pitcher that has had no control or power the entire game fans (strikes out) the side in the bottom of the last inning. A fielder times their jump correctly to pull in a home run from leaving the field, preserving a lead and cutting short a rally. A suicide squeeze succeeds. An otherwise unremarkable pitcher has the best night of their career and tosses a perfect game, with a little help from the fielders.

A team makes it to the World Series and loses in four games. A team makes it to the World Series and wins in seven games. The good and the bad are so tightly interwoven that every action in the game is both good and bad for someone. The good is to be celebrated, the bad endured. The wheel keeps turning. Them's the Breaks, kid.

...which actually makes this card really hard to interpret without the context around it. Sometimes The Breaks are an indication that your fortune is changing. Sometimes it's a reminder that good (or bad) circumstances are the reason why you're in the situation you're in, and that shoring up your position against a bad break is advised. Sometimes it represents the complexity of everything, and can either be a recommendation to not stress out too much about the details of it all, or a warning against trying to control too many things (or people), because the unpredictable is precisely the thing that will happen and crush your plans.

Sometimes it's just a reminder of the impermanence of everything, in the sense of "this, too, shall pass" and/or "getting attached to mutable things generates karma."

The Last Question is unlikely to be answered in our lifetime. We can make progress on it, but until it's done, there will always be something that is out of reach, something that feels like fate or destiny. Those, too, are The Breaks.

[This is part of a series exploring the Baseball Tarot.]

Baseball games do not normally end in ties, certain exhibition games that are roundly booed by fans and pointed to as catalysts for making that exhibition game Count notwithstanding. Unlike other sports of the world that routinely end in draws, baseball must have victors and losers. What happens, then, when twenty-seven outs are recorded on both sides and neither team has more runs than the other? Extra Innings.

Each extra inning is a full and complete inning - the visiting team gets to bat for three outs, and the home team gets to bat for three outs. As in the bottom of the ninth inning, if at any point the home team scores more runs than the visitors, the game stops and victory is declared. If both sides bat and the score is still the same at the end of the inning, another one is played. This can mean some late night games go well on into the morning until someone breaks the type and keeps it broken to the end of the inning. One minor league game made it all the way into the twenties of innings before the tie was finally beaten and everyone could go home. Many of the fans had already left by that time, of course, but those that stayed got more than two games worth of baseball. Not bad for a minor league ticket's price, yeah?

So the visiting team has the harder task of winning in extras - they have to score runs and then go out and field well enough to stop the home team from scoring more. The pressure, such that it is, sits mostly on the visiting team to try and win. At least until they do break the tie - then it's the home team's turn to feel the scrutiny of the fanatics. One way or another, this game will end, and hopefully, all the fans will be happy that they got to see a little more baseball than the nine innings promised, whether or not their team won. (And if they didn't, it's a shame.)

The presence of Extra Innings in your reading is about delay. Whatever it was that you were doing or hoping to achieve, it's going to take longer than you were hoping for. There's a thing in the way, and extra time and effort will have to go into it to make it a victorious affair. Nobody knows how long the delay is going to last, so you just have to keep playing the game to win in this inning and hope the other team doesn't do you one better. Or worse, match your increased effort with just enough of their own to keep everything locked up without anyone getting any sort of win. The fanatics on both sides of the baseball are both happy that they haven't lost and very irritated they haven't won yet. Because baseball is supposed to be done in nine innings and their team is supposed to have won. This indecision is grating, and yet enjoyable at the same time, because if you enjoy watching baseball, or if baseball is a social event for you as much as a sporting event, then getting to spend more time at the ball park is a good thing. Too much of a good thing, of course, but a little bit isn't bad.

The good part of this card is when the delay is put to use making things better and that everyone is still playing the game at their highest ability. It produces a better end and makes everyone feel better about it, as well. It can also be used to evaluate things like accessibility or diversity or better design, make revisions, and ensure that the finished product is even better in the end.

The downside of this card is useless delay or unproductive delay. If there's reason to hold things up, or the delay is there just for someone to assert their power over you, then it's stupid delay and you might need to engage in yelling as a service and/or other methods including voice or exit. Because stupid delay is one of the things that saps energy and morale. And eventually people. Unproductive delay is often endless meetings rehashing things that are commonly agreed upon, requiring forms to be filled out that have nothing to do with the project but are yet required by someone's bureaucratic rule (that do not, when poked, have any sort of good reason why they exist), or letting one's own personal politics interfere with the process for the sake of grandstanding, showboating, or because of inane or asinine promises made to not do work because someone else has a different view than you do. (Principled objections don't count here.)

Extra Innings doesn't always happen, but when it does, be prepared to take advantage of the extra time so that your end results will be better. Someone else will if you don't.

[This is part of a series exploring the Baseball Tarot.]

The Suit of Mitts is the suit of the Heart and Spirit, associated that way because of all the tools on the baseball field, Mitts are the receptive ones. They hold Balls, touch Bases and interfere with Bats. In fact, they're the only equipment that can contain an entire suit within themselves.

Mitts also come with different varieties to suit their intended purpose - the first base mitt has some extra length and width so as to catch less well-thrown balls in the stretch to make outs. The catcher's mitt has a significant amount of extra padding to compensate for having to collect regular offerings at high speeds. Each person's glove is unique to their hand and their playing style.

The domain of the Coach of Mitts is fielding, a staple of defensive power. Fielding is the power to be able to get a glove on a batted ball in a hurry and deliver that ball to the right place to collect outs and prevent runs from scoring. Considering, however, there are nine distinct positions on the field that each have different responsibilities, the fielding coach has to be able to understand every place and how it interacts worth all of the other places, and give both individual and group instruction on how to do the necessary parts of the defense. And how to support each other - one of the things you don't see unless a fielder mistimes a dive or takes a bad path to the ball is that there are other fielders also covering the same area the ball is at or going to. The catcher, for example, has to hustle themselves down on a ground ball to back up first base in case the throw is off-target, so as to prevent the batter from taking an extra base on the throw. Outfielders regularly back each other up so that one drive didn't get extra bases because the player missed their dive. The shortstop and second base have to learn which of them will be the one to go out and be the cutoff person for throws coming in from the outfield and which will cover the base for any plays that might happen there, and whether that assignment changes based in which part of the field the ball is headed out to. (It usually does.) Players need to know their coverage assignments on balls hit to their side of the field, the other side of the field, steal attempts, pickoffs, and all the other things that might involve the application of mitts (often with balls inside them, or transitioning through them).

All of this requires a group working in concert to learn and support each other. One must have a team to be able to field effectively, even if the personnel on that team shift around through trades and injury. If you cannot work well with others and know when to pass off the ball to someone else, you will not go very far at all. These are matters of heart and spirit because even if your head knows what to do, if your heart isn't in it, you can't give it full effort. If you aren't fully present in the moment of a game, with your spirit fully attuned to the field, you will be too slow, think too long, or deliver the ball too late. Things off the field can distract, things that happened earlier in the game can interfere, and then you are no longer present, and the team's power is not quite all there.

Communication is also a prerequisite to good fielding. Chatter is communication. The Signs are communication. Even rhubarb is communication, albeit not very productive or positive communication between teams. There is an established process for appealing to the umpires about the rules, and rules that govern that communication so that nobody gets thrown out for asking questions. A field that is silent is a field that cannot do its job.

The Coach of Mitts is the coach of receptivity, protection, and communication, all of which are needed to effectively build and maintain a team. Being able to work and talk with each other and stick up for each other when the time comes is the way to create a group of players that will be able to reach their full potentials. The Coach's positive aspects are in team-building and communication. The negative aspects of the card are in selfishness and praising the individual above the team, because that sows discord in the team's dynamics. If dysfunction is your goal, don't do what the fielding coach tells you to do. Just don't be surprised when you end up being responsible for the error that costs the team a run of two, or the game.

[This is part of a series exploring the Baseball Tarot.]

"Bases Loaded", in baseball or softball, signifies that each of first, second, and third bases are occupied by baserunners with outs still to go on the half-inning. The batter currently coming to the plate must be dealt with - a walk will advance all the runners one base, including the one on third, who will score a run without having to put in effort to avoid being put out. Most scenarios that have batted balls will result in a run scoring unless the defense can make enough outs off force plays to prevent that run from counting or make an out and be close enough to the next pay for the runner on third not to chance being thrown out at the plate.

For both pitcher and hitter, the bases loaded scenario is very high pressure baseball. For the hitter, they gave am opportunity to do some very serious damage with a base hit, or even keep the pressure on by walking in a run and continuing the bases loaded situation for the next batter in the lineup. That is countered by the possibility of striking out, hitting into a double play, or flying out shallowly, and only contributing an out instead of something better. For the pitcher, it's the prospect of giving up the big hit or home run that's the worry, and getting the K, the ground ball, or the short fly that's the benefit. Diametrically opposed goals with runs at stake in a showdown situation where someone is going to come away with a victory? Yeah, that's a pressure situation. Notice the fanatics are paying a lot more attention to the game at this point.

Because of the higher stress of these moments, mistakes are much more likely to happen and be consequential for the team that commits them. If you're looking for the players that are going to be The Hero and The Goat in any given game, barring last-inning heroics, what happens during the bases loaded scenarios are likely candidates. What constitutes a mistake in these scenarios have a much tougher standard. Even a pitch that is called a ball or a strike can have huge implications in the at-bat, in the way that it influences the pitch selection for the rest of the time. The more balls that have been accumulated, the more likely the pitcher is going to throw something that cannot be mistaken for anything but a strike, which means the batter can look for that pitch and take it for a ride. More strikes means the pitcher can dip into their arsenal of breaking and off-speed pitches to see if they can get a batter to chase something outside the strike zone. The ease with which both pitcher and hitter can mentally psych themselves out or overthink can make a situation like a Choke much more likely.

The best advice in this situation is usually the ones that are dispensed by the coaches to each of the players. "Just make contact." (i.e. "Don't try to swing for a home run and muscle the ball out. A normal, natural contact swing will do the job just fine.") "Throw strikes." (i.e. "Pitch balls the hitter will swing at and trust that the eight other positions defensively will be able to assist you in getting outs.") These are well-worn mantras of the coaching path, and players will hear them in just about every league and situation, but they are still the most relevant and sage words for the task at hand, because there's one thing more to remember about a bases loaded situation, even with all the pressure raining down on you to perform and execute: it's all potential. Nothing has happened yet. Breathe.

This card, in your reading, represents great potential. It can go well, poorly, spectacularly, disastrously, or remain mostly unchanged but for some movement in one direction or other. It's okay to feel the pressure of the situation. It's okay to panic and feel nervous and worried about it. Ultimately, though, trusting your training, assuming that the training and practice you've gone through is germane to the situation, is going to be the way to get through it.

The down side of this card is cracking under the pressure. Trying too hard to get through the situation is going to make it more likely that things will explode in your face. Running away from the situation isn't going to help, either - there are no bases to give, and going up hoping to walk will probably result in striking out, instead. (If it happens, try not to be too hard on yourself, okay?)

Throw strikes. Just make contact. The rest will follow, whether as in a Zen experience or a big ball of chaos.

[This is part of a series exploring the Baseball Tarot.]

There are two supposedly-contrasting forces for offensive players to maneuver toward - hitting for average, and hitting for power. Hitters for average are stereotypically smaller of build and fleeter of foot than others, with incredible bat speed that allows them to get the bat around on any pitches coming their way, no matter how poor the offering is, and punch it through the holes in the defense to get on base. Hitters for average are supposed to be the artists of the batted ball, specialists in placement and sneaking hits into places that don't seem like they could be responsible for a base hit. Those are the hitters...for the next post.

Instead, we're going to talk about those who use Power as their main method of baseball operations. For most power hitters, the key statistics are Home Runs, Runs Batted In, and the On-Base and Slugging percentages. These are all measures of offensive prowess and the likelihood that this hitter will produce multiple runs with a single swing of their bat. A power hitter lives for big plays and single moments, the bases-clearing hits and extra bases that end up on the highlight reels, the sports programs, and the newspaper columns written about the game. They are dangerous because they will hit anything that's not perfectly thrown and drive it very, very far.

On the other side of the plate are the power pitchers. Power pitchers might have two or three pitches in their repertoire, but their danger comes from sheer velocity. Pitchers that regularly throw in the high 90s and beginning 100s of velocity basically require hitters to decide whether the pitch is worthwhile almost as soon as it leaves the pitcher's hand. If the reflexes are too slow, it doesn't matter whether or not the player wants to swing, they won't have the opportunity to make contact before the ball is already in the catcher's mitt and the umpire is making a call.

Power is intimidating, and its skillful use can create an aura around the player that is very difficult to break. Some players exude that aura so well that they will be intentionally walked, just so they don't have to be pitched to. Others, especially pitchers in the closer role, rely on that intimidation aura and the sudden change in velocity to put players away with their fireballs in short order, bats still on their shoulders and mystified by what they have just seen.

The confrontation between power hitters and power pitchers is often a salivating affair for the observers, and the fanatics of both sides will sing the praises of their chosen partisan in an attempt to intimidate the opposition's fans. Power is intoxicating, even to those who are marginally proximal to it. Once the question is resolved in the rivalry at that point, power has been demonstrated. But the other person is only waiting for their opportunity to demonstrate their own power.

Power players have weaknesses, however. Power hitters, in their quest for extra base hits, will often take pitches they should be swinging at and will often swing at pitches they should be taking. Hitting for power often increases strikeouts, decreases walks, and hurts the batting average as well. Power pitching relies on a small set of pitches to be effective. Against a batter with good eyesight and high bat speed, sitting back and waiting to see what a pitch does for as long as possible, and with a remarkable talent for fouling off pitches that aren't just right, a power pitcher will eventually repeat themselves, have to go to one of their less effective pitches, or tire a bit and lose some of those velocities, and then a hitter can take advantage of these lapses for their own power hitting. Relying solely on your own power to get you through the game might work here and there, but it's not going to be the prefect solution for all situations.

This is usually the card of Strength in a more traditional Tarot deck, and much like its counterpart, Strength is useful in several situations, it is very flashy when put on display, but there are times where applying too much strength to a situation only results in things getting broken. For that kind of situation, you're going to need...

[This is part of a series exploring the Baseball Tarot.]

With its bevy of statistics and numbers tracked, it would surprise very few people that baseball is a game that seems good for simulation purposes. Statistical models are usually in play for more than just fantasy league players trying to make decisions about who to draft and trade - the teams themselves are running similar models to try and determine which if their players is going to be helpful, which need to be gotten rid of, and what kinds of roles need to be fulfilled if the team wants to compete for a playoff spot. Mathematics is the underpinning of baseball, and computers are really good at doing all sorts of complex mathematics to see whether or not a player is going to be valuable.

That's all very off-field material. On the field, maths and logic are just as important in determining defensive placement (and whether to use the shift or not), pitch selection, how big a lead to take, whether to steal, and whether to take, swing, or bunt. All of these factors interact with each other in myriad ways. A slow pitcher with a catcher that can get rid of a ball quickly is a different scenario than a fast pitcher with a slower catcher. A hitter with a tendency and a pitcher with a likelihood adjust their choices accordingly.

Prioritization is a huge part of the defensive decision tree. With runners on base, opportunities to get the lead runner out are a priority - except when the batted ball would result in two outs instead. Then you can give up a base, and sometimes even a run, in exchange for two outs. Except if the infield really needs to make sure that lead runner doesn't score the winning run - then you might only get one out, or none, so as to avoid losing the game. The outfield always attempts to deliver the ball back to the infield one base ahead of the lead runner any time they have to handle retrieving it, fly out or not. Force outs are preferable to tag outs, ground ball outs to fly ball outs (and strikeouts over all), and before every pitch is thrown, every defender knows what to do with the ball should it be batted their way, in the case of runners trying to take the next base and in the case of runners not trying to take the next base. They also know what to do if the ball is batted to a different defender - pitchers are often required to cover first base on balls batted to the defender normally covering first base. This can mean for a very interesting 3-6-1 (first base-shortstop-pitcher) double play if the defense can hustle fast enough to get everyone in place. Shortstop and second base trade off as to whom is covering second base on balls batted to the left or right side of the field, and whom is covering second base in case of a throw down to prevent a steal or attempt to pick off the runner, based on the situation and the batter at the plate.

The foundations of these heuristics are taught at the learning level, with practice scenarios repeated until the fielders are making correct decisions, even if their arm strength can't quite deliver the ball to the correct destination in a reasonable amount of time. It's why some of the chatter between defenders are reminders to themselves and others as to which decision tree to use for the upcoming batter. And then those decision trees end up having to account for the rare scenario, usually accompanied by a field-level below of "BUNT!"

A computer could very well simulate the entire decision tree that every player goes through on every pitch and accurately replicate most of the mental game as thoroughly as possible. The physical game, not as easily, but they're trying all the same, through increasingly sophisticated dice rolls and random number generation. The mental game is present for those that can read the signs, and if you're tapped in to that part of the game, even the mundane experiences give clues to the unfolding shape of the contest.

All of that goes into this card - Fielder's Choice. Officially, a Fielder's Choice is defined in Rule 2 as "the act of a fielder who handles a fair grounder and, instead of throwing to first base to put out the batter-runner, throws to another base in an attempt to put out a preceding runner." It's a way of statistically accounting for the presence of a batter on the bases on the scorecard without the official scorer having to credit them with a hit (which would raise their batting average). A Fielder's Choice is considered an official at-bat, so statistically, the batter is punished correctly for not hitting safely, even if they subsequently manage to get on base due to how the play unfolds.

For example, a batter who starts what would be a 6-4-3 double play but manages to beat the relay throw to first thanks to their speed on the basepaths or their teammate's work at disrupting the rhythm of the play (actual disruption of the play itself that doesn't give the defense a fair shot at making the play in the eyes of the umpire is interference, and will get the batter declared out) will be scored as a Fielder's Choice - the defensive player could have decided to put the batter out, and probably would have, but they chose to go after a higher-priority runner already on the base paths. In the cases of double plays, the batter might still end up getting out anyway based on further decisions, but the initial decision was to focus on something else.

As you might expect, the presence of this card is about making decisions. The artwork of the card itself depicts a fielder with the ball and in the motion of making a throw, with other fielders ready to receive that throw. The throwing fielder, however, is giving no body language as to which fielder they are going to throw to, and may, in fact, be hesitating just a little bit before delivering the ball, a hesitation that could be costly.

The upside of the card indicates choosing a course of action based on your understanding of the situation and following through on it. Even if you're not sure that the option you picked is the optimal one, you should at least be able to get an out from the decision or otherwise help your team. The option you choose may be different based on the scenarios that you choose, but at this point in the game, you hopefully have enough information about the state of play that you can confidently make a choice that will be helpful.

Which makes the downside of the card about indecision. Paralyzing indecision, of trying to choose between options where there is no clear indication as to where to go, or between competing options that are both loud and mutually exclusive. If you can't choose, try to determine why not. A lack of information can hopefully be remedied with research or questioning. Or applying what you already know to the situation at hand. Sometimes the decision is there, you just need to actually notice it.

Baseball is a game of choices, from the front office to the field of play. Even if only one specific thing actually gets recorded as something in the scorer's book. Seeing the decisions that lead to the current situation helps makes later decisions easier to make.

The Double Play is a wonder, whenever it appears. One batted ball results in two outs for the defense. This is in part because the rules provide for many ways to get hitters and runners out on batted balls. This is also because there is an impressive amount of coordination involved in any double play.

Take, for example, the "garden variety" double play - a ground ball hit to either the shortstop (position 6) or second base (position 4). If they field the ground ball cleanly, they must quickly get the ball to the fielder covering second base. That fielder has to arrive, catch the ball with a foot in contact with the base, and then keep moving so that they can set and throw down to first base before the runner that is sliding into the base...or them...prevents the exchange from happening. If there is someone on the receiving end for the throw, then the double play can complete.

This is a thing being taught at the learning levels, but it may take a few years if developing arm strength and mental focus before there is the possibility that this exchange might happen the way it is envisioned. By the time we get to the Major League Baseball level, the entire exchange, from bat contact to second out, takes about fifteen seconds at most. The entire field is moving in concert, and it is beautiful to behold. Even though the television commentators may not be as appreciative of it, because they have seen it done time and time again, a triumph of execution and practice.

There are, of course, rarer forms of the double play that catch the excitement of the crowd and the commentators more. 5-4-3 (third base -> second base -> first base) is exciting because the ball has to travel a good deal farther around the diamond to achieve the same result and usually has a much tighter window of execution associated with it. The "strike 'em out, throw 'em out" double play is more properly recorded as a strikeout of the batter and a caught stealing against a runner, but there's something exciting about the catcher having to catch the pitch that the hitter is swinging at and then still make an accurate throw to catch the baserunner. It is a testament to concentration and the sometimes unappreciated throwing ability of most catchers. Infielders can create great double plays by catching a sharply struck ball that nobody thought they could get to and then throwing over to a base to catch a runner too far away from safety, having thought the hit would be a safe one. Those are plays that will energize the fanatics.

The most dramatic of double plays, however, almost always involve the outfield. Fly balls to the outfield that are not too deep or too shallow set up a showdown between the outfielder and the runner on base. The outfielder has to hit a very precise target on a couple bounces or less to give the fielder the ability to apply a tag to a very small and fast-moving window of opportunity. They are delightful to witness, especially when you know the fielder making the throw has an extremely large caliber launcher to fire with. Some of those double plays are also the kind where knowledge is the only reason why they happen - at the learning leagues, an outfielder making a catch is often sufficiently excited about making the catch (as fly balls to the outfield are quite rare) that they have to be reminded what to do after the catch is done. If the fielder remembers, and the infielders have remembered their roles, too, sometimes you get an extra out because the person on base has forgotten theirs. I've done that at least once in my career.

Double plays are responsible for at least one rules patch - the Infield Fly Rule. Because it is so much easier to be able to read whatever it is the baserunner expects you to do with the ball (catch or not), and then do the opposite so that your have a leisurely time to put them out and prevent the offense from being able to advance their agenda in a fair and equal manner. Baseball is supposed to be something approaching a fair game, so situations that consistently upset that fairness get patched out very quickly.

If this card appears in your reading, it's a sign of applied teamwork producing results. More than 99 percent of double plays executed need two or more players to act in concert, and the most "common" ones need three. Congratulate and acknowledge the team members that helped produce your result, no matter how routine it seemed to all of you, so as to make sure that the team dynamics continue to run smoothly.

Of course, if you're the hitter in this situation, well, making two outs is not the best result for your at bat, but you can take comfort in that most of the time in a double play, you tried to avoid it and just hit it to the wrong place. Lots of other players have done the same thing, and many other ones will continue to do so. Mistakes happen and you have to keep going. If you feel like the baserunner, it's probably a sign that you've been caught by surprise and misread a situation. (Or that you need to get into your takeout slide.)

Two outs, one play. Not bad work, if you can get it.

[This is part of a series exploring the Baseball Tarot.] 

Besides being the only permanent rule of Calvinball, no two baseball games unfold exactly alike. Many are close enough to each other that some general rules and strategies can develop and some percentages can be played and statistics-driven baseball is likely to be, on paper and in simulations like video games or fantasy sports, a way of believing the numbers mean things.

Of course, many of the memorable games of baseball are the ones that defied numbers and statistics - a man with an injured leg hits a game winning home run in the bottom of the ninth and can thus take all the time he needs to circle the bases, for example. Or, having just hit what would be the game winning home run, a player suffers a ligament tear that absolutely prevents them from going any farther under their own power. And so, in a stunning display of sportsmanship, because the rules prevent any member of their own team from assisting them, fielders for the opposing team pick up the player and take them around the base path, stopping at each base so that the player that hit the home run can touch each base legally and ends the game that they have won. The other side could have refused, and the batter would have had to find a way to get around the bases themselves. But they understand the shared pain of playing, and ultimately that a fellow human is suffering. At a certain point, the game is set aside, because the entertainment is soured.

In these scenarios, as was said when wrestler Owen Hart died from a malfunction of safety equipment, "This is not part of the entertainment tonight.
This is as real as real can be here." (Jim Ross, play-by-play commentator.)

Enough of depressing things. The actual point is that each instance of baseball, each pitch, each hit, each play, can be influenced by numbers, but plays out in still not-modelable reality, where pitchers and batters both take advantage of the mental state of each other to achieve their ends. The best hitters in the world still have slumps, the worst hitters come through in the clutch. Hero, Goat, Winning Streak, Slump, All-Star or Rookie, everybody goes through cycles. And yet, despite those cycles, or pertussis because of them, some players build careers that stick a little bit better in our heads. Our they have the good skill and fortune to participate in games that have special significance, either for the game, for the team, or for themselves. There probably wasn't anything special about most of the games Cal Ripken, Jr. played. But then you realize that he played in every game, without fail, without a game off, without injury or sickness strong enough to necessitate missing a game, for almost fourteen years before breaking the previous record for most consecutive games played. That level of health and fitness seems impossible these days. As does the lack of being part of or requesting trades that might otherwise cause him to miss a game. It's unlikely that his intent was breaking the record when he set out on the journey.

There are a lot of names in the Hall of Fame that are only really known to dedicated baseball scholars and the fans of the team those players played for. They had great careers in baseball, but unsure not the first names that come to mind when one thinks of baseball players. As with everything involving fame and memory, it seems like it's random in determining whether or not one player or another lives on after their baseball days are done.

I think, though, after having done these series, I realize that a lot of baseball, sport, careers, and perhaps even life in general, once someone learns the rules and mechanics, is mostly about telling stories. And if that's the case, then really, none of us are in control about whether we become legendary. We can try to set ourselves up for being part of a good story with virtuous behavior, pursuit of passions, voicing our opinions, excellence in our careers, and so forth, but many of our stories are about single moments. Accumulation of enough of those single moments can mean a career of stories, and if those stories are repeated enough to enough people, they can pass into legend and become instructional material for the next generation. The player is often transformed into a demigod or full deity of the domain of the stories that are told about them, and, in some ways, risk becoming only the stories that are told about them, as the people that know them pass on and their knowledge is lost. The Legend lives on, often independently of the being that have birth to them.

Legends are primarily figures of adoration, respect, and good will of their particular fields. The basic canon of stories generally starts with creation, then moves forward to the old times before, and progresses toward the current era's heroes - there's a little bit of ego involved in putting the current as the very best, and usually a little bit of pride in telling the stories that we have experienced ourselves, as opposed to those that have come before. There are always stories of villains, too, but wherever possible, villains show up accompanied by heroes that will defeat them. It's one of the Pratchettian Big Lies, of course, that villains and cheaters are always caught and punished, because it tends to be more likely they don't, but without that bit in place, the stories lose their coherence and the legends are swiftly overwhelmed by the ne'er do wells. The bad side needs acknowledging, though, and so usually the stories retain a couple monsters to try and keep everyone else away from that path. The "Black Sox" scandal, for example, and the strike-shortened seasons are there as reminders of when things went astray and needed to be brought back.

We choose our stories based on how others see us. Those new to the game will get different stories about why this sport is worth following and watching than those who are already here. Much like how experts see the world differently through the lenses of their expertise, the stories traded from people who understand the details and intricacies of the game will be different, and quite possibly a little bit more arcane. Stories with the intent of persuasion leave off some details in favor of a more convincing narrative. Legends are there both for the people who are trying to understand and for those who are trying to deepen their appreciation. Sometimes within the same story.

Retirement is scary. Nostalgia is tempting. Becoming legendary while still being around to appreciate it is the goal of many, even those that know that the truth of one's legends is much the same as the truth of funerals - they're not there for the person being talked about, they're there for everyone else. Many people will go onward without knowing that they have become a legend to someone. If you have the opportunity, now would be a good time to let your legends know how much you look up to them.

The card itself is the Rider-Waite equivalent of the Emperor, a person invested with temporal power and absolute authority over the people that are his subjects. Emperors are often styled to be related to gods, if not gods themselves, with corresponding stories of their majesty, part, and divine right to rule to follow with them. As with all of our constructed stories, it requires shared belief to elevate anyone to a role above others, whether in small ways, elected ways, or divine ways. Our legends tell anyone who listens about what our values and beliefs are, even if they can't quite understand why we believe it.

The presence of a Legend in a reading says that the stories are important to understanding - looking to the paths of those gone before and extracting the important parts of their stories to apply to the situation at hand. It's not necessarily the case that the good things and the heroes are the important parts of the story and are the only things to pay attention to. The whole story is important. Pay attention to all the action going on to gain full understanding.

As in baseball, as in life, as in so many other things.

This concludes the second year of baseball tarot. The remaining cards available would only cover a half-month of material, so for next year, maybe I'll spring them out somewhere in the All-Star break. This means I need a new December Days topic for next year. Suggestions greatly welcomed.

[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.]

Humans are risk-averse creatures. Given the choice between a small payout with low or no risk and a large payout with a real possibility of getting nothing or losing money instead, the small payout wins for most people. The studies say this, anyway. The safer a life can be, the more it is preferable - at least to a point. Too much safety sometimes sparks rebellion and significantly increased risk with the intent of feeling alive again, or other motivations that stem from the reality that a life lived safely often lacks excitement. In this regard, baseball follows life. The fanatics are often displeased with teams that they feel are playing conservatively, regardless of what the score is, as a team that is behind clearly needs to play more aggressively to catch up, and a team that is ahead needs to play more aggressively to add to their lead. The conception of "running up the score" is mostly absent from baseball at the professional levels, because all teams at those levels can, with the right at if circumstances, score a bundle of runs in a short time. No lead is truly safe in baseball, because the game progresses by outs instead of time, and one big inning early in the game can be beaten by several small innings in sequence. Trying to hold a lead requires taking risk, because one can only record outs by risking the ball being hit somewhere that can score runs.

An example of play that is too conservative manifests on the basepaths with the idea of "hugging the base". While in the learning leagues, the idea of taking a lead is quashed because the physical capabilities of the defense aren't able to reliably record outs against steals, at any level that does allow leads from bases, to not take the lead and stay with one of both feet firmly in contact with the base is generally seen as a problem that needs correction.

Hugging the base provides safety - there's no way the runner can be put out by a pickoff of they're touching the base, so someone who worries about being fooled by such a move, or has heard about the effectiveness of a pickoff move, may find the easiest way to not worry is to make it not possible. Taking the surety provides peace of mind. Unfortunately, taking the safe behavior always has consequences, too. In this case, hugging the base means that the runner has to cover the full distance between bases on a batted ball. Unless they are a particularly speedy runner, it's much more likely that the runner without a lead will be out on a ground ball to the infield that is handled cleanly by the defenders. By not taking a lead, the runner is trading being put out by a relatively rare occurrence (the pickoff) for being put out by a relatively common occurrence (the ground ball).

Hugging the base is thus a failure of risk assessment. Being too concerned about remote possibilities can mean being unprepared for common ones. Trying to remove all risk from the situation at hand often means being exposed to a greater risk in the future. This is one of the dilemmas of parenting a child - as the child matures and can engage in complex thinking of their own, how much freedom do they have to engage in risk-taking of their own? The law prohibits them from operating multi-ton instruments of destruction until a certain age, and even then places restrictions on how and when they can do so as a matter of trying to prevent high-risk behavior. The insurance companies charge higher premiums for the young because they are likely to take their freedom and do risky things with it. Being away from home opens up the possibility of loss of new experiences for the young - sometimes in a relatively controlled environment, sometimes with the freedoms of being an adult in the eyes of the law. Depending on how much control parents and guardians want to exert, even trips to the library could be dangerous activities, since the books on the shelves may contain concepts that the adults feel aren't appropriate for the child to be learning about (either at that point of life or at all). Trying to find the balance between too much freedom and too little is difficult and only gets more so once independent thoughts and ideas about fairness get involved and young adults start making decisions of their own without parental input. There's only so much a coach can do - the players have to execute, and that means trusting them at the appropriate points to do their jobs. Which can mean encouraging them not to hug the base and not to be afraid of things that are less likely to happen.

The card ,should it appear in your reading, is a signal that the way you are thinking about things right now isn't a realistic assessment of the possible danger involved. Something is occupying your mind and transforming small things into large, scary ones. You may need the help of someone else to figure out what it is, or it might be that you're in a situation where you've been hurt or suffered negative consequences before. While it may seem to be the most practical thing to hold still and defend what you already have, the truth is that there are other batters coming behind you and they need you to be able to get to the next base. You will have to take a lead at some point to be able to progress. It will be scary, and you will want to dive back to the base at the first sign the pitcher is going to throw over, but with time, and with surviving a few attempts to pick you off, you can build the confidence needed to take a safe lead, and maybe even attempt at steal.

This is also the card of letting go. Not in a full fire sale sort of way, necessarily, but humans remember what hurt them and keep that in mind to avoid being hurt the next time. It helps build the armor that seems necessary for interacting with the world. Too much armor, though, and it becomes impossible to move. Perhaps it is worth letting a little bit of that armor go so that you can stretch your limbs and explore a bit. At your own pace, of course, and with as much support as you can muster, because it's no good to send you out into the world from nothing. But there's a lot of great things to be done out in the world that you'll enjoy. Honest.