Lithe, Languid, Supple
Logomisia, the golf swing, and effortless power.
Lithe, Languid, Supple. These are adjectives which, for some reason, make people uncomfortable1 to say them out loud, but are reserved for some of the most specific visual experiences. Things like ballet, and what I am about to describe.
My oldest son and I flew to Tampa this week with only 1 back pack each to beat the system on Spirit Air flights from New Orleans. We went to watch a few spring training baseball games. Though we visited three different parks, somehow in each of those different settings one of the teams competing happened to be the Pirates.
By last night as we watched them take batting practice we felt like we had to pay attention to our own emotions just to make sure that we weren’t somehow becoming Pittsburgh fans amidst so many septuagenarians wearing Clemente, Stargell, and even one Kent Tekulve2 jersey. My brother-in-law, who joined us for 2 of the 3 games, admitted that he may have already re-located a good portion of his baseball rooting allegiance to the Steel City.
Other than this weird emotional undercurrent, the most captivating part of being at Spring Training was watching and listening to the explosion of power created with every swing of the bat by these big-leaguers.
I am an amateur golfer of the skill level that I would describe as “good enough not to feel like I am never holding anyone back, regardless of their skill level”. I would describe my swing as “more light than heat”. I am tall-ish 6’1” and plenty heavy enough to give the illusion that I can hit the ball far. But as I often have to tell unfamiliar playing partners, who respond with various expressions related to how I just bombed one down the middle, I am “sneaky short off the tee.”
Which brings me back to batting practice and golf swings that look so effortless and yet produce extremely powerful results. It was the best part of my time in the ballpark. This is why I like sitting at the driving range when I attend golf tournaments, and standing just up the line from the foul pole during BP. To be able to see the swing as it coils in and then uncoils itself from a close enough vantage point that my ears and my brain can match the cracking sound to the instant of impact.
It reminds me of the little “poppers” that come in sawdust-filled cardboard boxes the size of a deck of cards. You can buy them at the fireworks stand. The loud pop that they create is not louder than other firecrackers, but I have always felt like it was a better pop because it comes from a tiny piece of twisted tissue that you can toss ever-so-softly into the air. No matter how gently you toss it over a long gentle arc, when it hits the pavement it cracks like a tiny gunshot. That is the sensation that I get when I watch the smoothest and most efficient golf swings. It can almost startle you every time, no matter how many times you see it from someone who wields their driver the way that Indiana Jones does his bull whip. The pop always takes me by surprise.
That is what we saw last night. We watched man after man step into and out of the turtle shaped batting cage sending baseballs by the dozens into swarms of wrestling children and a few over anxious adults waiting 300-400 feet away.
For me, this is the magic of sports and especially watching sports at the highest level.
logomisia - is the word for the words that people just don’t like to say out loud. You probably have your own list, but for some reason, there are a few words that are this way for lots of people.
I am proud(?) to have known that Tekulve’s first name is Kent without having to google it.