Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Bashing in the glory
Aaron McFarling
Recent columns
Nowhere else do you see it.
Salesman 1: "Hey Bill, congratulations on landing that big account. That's really going to boost the company's bottom line."
Salesman 2: "Thanks, Steve."
Salesman 1: "As a token of our appreciation, we've got machete-wielding colleagues waiting for you in the conference room."
Salesman 2: "Time for a celebratory stabbin', huh?"
Salesman 1: "Wear old clothes."
Nope. Only in baseball are your greatest accomplishments commemorated with excruciating pain.
How did this start? Exactly whose idea was it to turn home plate into a churning chamber of agony for home run hitters?
It didn't used to be this way. Not long ago, the tribute of choice was lining up in organized fashion to greet the triumphant teammate. These were dignified high-fives. These were gentlemanly fist bumps.
(Rump-slaps were optional -- and mostly frowned upon by adolescent boys -- but even those were more "Attaboy" pats than "Takethat!" wallops.)
Now? It's like driving through a car wash with no car. Elbows fly. Shoulders dip and crash into bodies, a la Vince Hall at the 40-yard line.
Hands smash into ribs, backs and even faces.
After Alleghany senior Steven Keener blasted a walk-off home run to win the Blue Ridge District tournament two weeks ago, tiny middle infielders morphed into Kimbo Slice, pummeling the poor guy for a good 15 seconds.
"That's probably the hardest I've ever been hit," the victim said.
But hey -- it was a big home run.
You start feeling for these boys the moment they touch first base and begin the trot for second. It's like those cartoons where the cat straps the mouse to the conveyer belt and sends him sliding toward the buzz saw. Except there's no hope for an escape.
Given that, sluggers have learned to take precautions. Last year, after hitting a game-winning homer against Jefferson Forest, Hidden Valley's Zack Helgeson wisely tossed his helmet aside about 40 feet from home plate.
"I've been pounded in the head a few times," he explained that night. "I see stars, and then momentarily I can't see anything. But it's a great feeling."
Tonight, Keener's Mountaineers and Helgeson's Titans meet in a Group AA quarterfinal. It's a win-or-go-home affair. The Low Moor field is small. And those two seniors have combined for 18 homers.
Pray for them both.
Ask an assailant about this phenomenon and he'll shrug his shoulders and smile. It's just what you do now, he'll say. Hammer the homer hitter.
Asked what he thinks about the trend, Glenvar coach Brian Crockett said he hasn't seen it much on his team.
"At times, our enthusiasm hasn't been that great throughout the year," he said.
So at least the Highlanders are safe. Maybe.
As is common in any sport, the concept starts at the top. In a September column on major-league home run celebrations, SI.com writer John Rolfe described this occurrence as "The Beatdown."
The slugger "is immediately surrounded by madly hopping teammates who pummel him into a presumably bloody froth," he wrote. "We say presumably because the lucky hitter simply disappears into the mob. This form of celebration is common after walk-off homers, but how the hitter can walk off after being beaten senseless is another great mystery of the universe."
So as titles are won and lost this week, let's try to be safe out there. Nobody's saying you need to line up politely if you've just won a championship.
But please, leave the machetes at home.
