Coach's Corner

Six Flags Over Texas: The line at El Vibora, a rickety, yellow-and-red toboggan-like roller coaster, snaked on forever. In front of us stand two couples and a mixed medley of children. One couple wears precisely matching green and yellow shorts and polo shirts. The other adults are sporting T-shirts quoting fundamentalist slogans. "Jesus saves," "Open your heart to the Lord," that kind of thing. Each child eagerly chows down rather large bags of pork rinds. Behind us, a large, clearly lesbian Spanish couple. The muggy air is still. We're in the hut where the line moves up and down, down and up, as we edge toward the still-invisible ride. Wedged in this relentlessly claustrophobic environment, the moment was at hand to explain to my companion, Kelly, how to score a baseball game.

Like the All-American fullback who has four daughters, my girlfriends on the whole have known little or nothing about sports. A typical story: My ex-wife is meeting my father for the first time. Dad is lounging in his accustomed spot watching the Jets on Monday Night Football. The ex, trying gamely to engage the old man on his turf asks, innocently enough, "Which one's Joe Namath?" Okay I think, so far so good. "He's the quarterback," the old man says. Uh-oh, I think. A pregnant pause, then, "What's a quarterback?"

If the ex stood somewhere around the monkey on the sport's evolutionary scale, then Kelly is far more advanced, beginning to rub rocks together. Her view of baseball: "No one ever does anything. A pitcher throws the ball (not too bad, at least she knows what a pitcher is), someone catches it. Sometimes someone runs somewhere. It's a bunch of guys standing around doing nothing. No wonder Babe Ruth was so fat." Though not a totally inexact description, I felt she was missing some of the subtle nuances of the game, which is why I'm standing in this oppressive line, explaining the intricate numerology of scorekeeping. A trip to Six Flags -- a necessary inducement -- is spaced around her first two ball games.

With an sour predisposition toward the game, it was incumbent on me to walk a fine line between overselling or leaving her so baseball-ignorant her notions would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Driving to Dallas, I gently probed for ground zero. Trying not to be too insulting, I discovered she knew about balls (four) and strikes (three). There was some confusion about innings. Okay, she had a fuzzy understanding of the force play. North of Waco, I embarked upon an absolutely necessary primer on the unfortunate history of the Texas Rangers. Engrossed in a crossword puzzle (a natural scorekeeper!), I don't think she heard a word.

I'd tried to explain the difference in watching a game on TV and seeing one live. I was pleased to see her wide-eyed fascination with the sights, smells, and sounds of a baseball game. She was gratified to see walls around the park instead of an open field. She -- like any good fan -- was interested in the wide varieties of cuisine. She was excited to see real live peanut vendors.

Since it was Nolan Ryan Appreciation Weekend, the Rangers were replaying moments of Ryan's seven no-hitters. This led to an animated, wildly confusing dialog on why anyone would think a game, when nobody hit the ball, was exciting. It took a few moments before I understood how literally she took the term "no-hitter." She asked why those people were all standing around at home plate before the game talking to the referees. After we got the umpire/referee nomenclature straight, she noted how stupid 55-year-old men look in baseball uniforms. I'd never thought about it before. Can you imagine Bob Hill in basketball shorts? Good point.

Things Kelly liked. Food: chicken tenders, nachos, beer, funnel cakes and Big Kahuna bars. The restrooms: The Rangers would be pleased to hear a first-time visitor found them clean, plentiful and line-less. Gun's `N Roses: "Welcome to the Jungle" played before the game. The Dot Race. The seventh-inning stretch with the obligatory "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." Scorekeeping. Walking around the park, yet missing nothing at all. The Jumbotron scoreboard. The organ.

Things Kelly didn't like. Nolan Ryan: "Who does he think he is?" she grumbled as he rode into the park in a luxury car, regally waving to all, "The President?" Hot dogs (I disagreed and scarfed her leftovers) and pizza (It was bad). Other fans selfishly sitting in front of us, depriving her of comfortable footrests. Mickey Tettleton: In these politically sensitive times, her repeated, persistent remarks regarding the Ranger DH must remain private. Time between innings: She noted that basketball players don't shoot baskets after time-outs, football teams don't run mock plays in between quarters, why must baseball players play catch with each other between innings? The scoreboards: Too much stupid information (like runs, hits and errors). The Rangers: After 18 innings of watching Texas play listless baseball -- losing twice to a sorry Milwaukee team -- no heated explanations of "magic numbers" and the overwhelming improbability of losing a seven-game lead with 14 to play would sway her view of the Rangers as "pathetic losers."

From the mouths of babes.... n