Loading Up

This year’s World Series, which begins in Los Angeles tonight, features the two largest sporting markets going head-to-head, the revival of the original Subway Series between the (once Brooklyn) Dodgers and the New York Yankees and the promise of baseball’s return to cultural relevance, thanks to the teams involved as well as the rule changes that have increased excitement and pace of play. The most appealing thing to baseball fans about the series, however, is the players. On the rosters of the two teams are six of the best—and some of the most eccentric—hitters in the world: Aaron Judge, Juan Soto and Giancarlo Stanton for the Yankees; Shohei Ohtani, Mookie Betts and Freddie Freeman for the Dodgers.

When I was a kid, I would stand in my front yard and become my favorite baseball players. At first I wrote “imitate” rather than “become,” but this is not quite accurate: athletic endeavors, with their focus on the aesthetics of the body, allow for the unique possibility of reincarnation. I would throw up a Wiffle ball, and while I was waiting for it to come down I became Gary Sheffield, with his metronomic bat wave, then Andrés Galarraga, the Big Cat, with his open stance and the toe of his front foot gently touching the ground, as if he’d paused in the middle of a ballet move, and then Chipper Jones, who tapped his foot twice, first backwards, and then forward, as if he really was dancing. Hitting a moving ball is about timing, and each player has his own way of keeping the rhythm.

In this year’s World Series, the games will be played in New York and Los Angeles, but, if the series delivers on its potential drama, they will also be played by kids across the country, and in Japan and Latin America, too. Not to mention those of us who are no longer kids, except when we watch sports.

Soto is perhaps the most expressive player in the series. After a ball, he frequently performs what is called the “Soto Shuffle,” wherein he sweeps his backfoot toward his front, then the front foot toward the back, before pounding his front hip with his closed right fist. This seems to be his way of claiming the territory of home plate as his own. In his already famous tenth-inning at bat last Saturday, which culminated with a game-winning three-run homer, he performed the Shuffle after the first pitch, then, after the second pitch, squatted down, stood up and sprayed the dirt with his backfoot in a dismissive, petulant way, unhappy with a called strike. Besides his feet, Soto enjoys communicating with his head and mouth, albeit in a nonverbal way. After the third pitch of the at bat, Soto began to look out at the pitcher and nod his head up and down. Then he spit. After the fourth pitch, he did it again. Head nod up and down, spit. (There’s an expression in baseball called “spitting on a pitch,” which means to not swing when thrown a ball that looks like it might be a strike. Soto does this almost literally.) The at bat continued and Soto bit his bottom lip, then stuck his tongue out and moved it around his lips. He was tasting the pitches, swirling them around in his mouth like a sommelier before expectorating them, unimpressed. When he finally received the pitch he’d been waiting for, a fastball, he kissed it goodbye.

Fans will also be looking forward to watching Shohei Ohtani, the Japanese superstar often compared to Babe Ruth for his ability to both pitch and hit at the highest level. When Ohtani stands at the plate, he doesn’t move like most players do. Instead, he resembles a praying mantis, perfectly still, his bat pointing straight up and his elbows flared out at sharp angles, ready to attack. As the pitcher begins his motion, Ohtani plants his front toe and coils his body in on itself. When a young player is learning to swing, coaches often talk about “loading up,” but with Ohtani, the concept is not abstract. He’s like a spring, condensing his energy and power before exploding. His swing is the most violent in the game, so much so that he’ll occasionally lose his helmet from the force he generates by turning his body.

And then there is Giancarlo Stanton. If Soto is the most expressive and Ohtani the most powerful, Stanton is the most precise. His swing is not beautiful; instead, he is more like a surgeon, making a short, purposeful incision on the ball with complete economy of movement. His feet do not move, nor does his body; his arms simply guide the bat to the ball in an efficient, robotic motion, and the ball flies away. Each of these players will have their moment, as will Judge, Betts and Freeman. I can’t say for certain, but perhaps I will find myself alone one night after a game, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, tapping my toes or shuffling my feet, interlocking my fingers and swinging an imaginary bat for the imaginary fences.

Photo credit: All-Pro Reels (Flickr, CC / BY-SA 2.0)