Hart makes baseball bear an improbable metaphysical weight—and somehow it holds. Memory and possibility, discipline and freedom, failure and excellence, the finite opening toward the infinite: all are there between the foul lines. Perhaps Heidegger simply needed better seats.
I am sorry to confess that the brightest flare in my personal baseball firmament remains the miraculous 1969 Mets, those improbable Amazins who proceeded against every actuarial expectation and bookmaker’s arithmetic to dispatch your heavily favored Orioles four games to one in the World Series. Still, because then and thereafter I stood sentry at that fiefdom of baseball’s geometry called the hot corner, I was a devoted student of Baltimore’s other famed Robinson. I read greedily everything by him and about him that I could lay hands on, and I was thrilled to watch him in the 1970 Series personally rob the Reds blind.
So, I am a sucker for the pitch of your rhetoric, but I must say the oral/ aural realities of the interview is more interesting in life than reading a journal, and makes me wonder that I don't yet know the journal The Plough. I suppose there is no better way to get to know The Plough than by taking it up, reading it; or, as you have, being taken up or caught up in writing for its publication and participating in an interview with a journalist for The Plough.
[A comment concerning the lesser vs the greater: What would you make of Moe Berg and his essay Pitchers and Catchers? It seems to me my college education/ formation by professors under the influence of Hegel/ Marx - whether they understood for well or ill - at the point when the wall came down is another kind of turn on the question of an other possible life. (Perhaps, an other world?)] [[Solang du Selbstgeworfnes fängst - Rilke]]
To your Orphic article or Christ’s “ultimate ploughing” - yes! Ovid and Virgil or Moses and Elijah could not field the game better or make Lewis Carroll more cheerful. ( I can’t wait to listen in on the interview.)
I saw Frank as a Red in the old Polo Grounds and Shea Stadium a number a times; one of the all time greats. On another note, I hope you are not being impacted by the floods in Indiana.
Though I was a lowly Braves fan in the 70’s, one of my earliest prized possessions was a Frank Robinson baseball card.
Hart makes baseball bear an improbable metaphysical weight—and somehow it holds. Memory and possibility, discipline and freedom, failure and excellence, the finite opening toward the infinite: all are there between the foul lines. Perhaps Heidegger simply needed better seats.
I am sorry to confess that the brightest flare in my personal baseball firmament remains the miraculous 1969 Mets, those improbable Amazins who proceeded against every actuarial expectation and bookmaker’s arithmetic to dispatch your heavily favored Orioles four games to one in the World Series. Still, because then and thereafter I stood sentry at that fiefdom of baseball’s geometry called the hot corner, I was a devoted student of Baltimore’s other famed Robinson. I read greedily everything by him and about him that I could lay hands on, and I was thrilled to watch him in the 1970 Series personally rob the Reds blind.
I just learned about Anthony Kenny passing away. Such a shame. I know he held you with great respect David. My sympathies for his family and you.
So, I am a sucker for the pitch of your rhetoric, but I must say the oral/ aural realities of the interview is more interesting in life than reading a journal, and makes me wonder that I don't yet know the journal The Plough. I suppose there is no better way to get to know The Plough than by taking it up, reading it; or, as you have, being taken up or caught up in writing for its publication and participating in an interview with a journalist for The Plough.
[A comment concerning the lesser vs the greater: What would you make of Moe Berg and his essay Pitchers and Catchers? It seems to me my college education/ formation by professors under the influence of Hegel/ Marx - whether they understood for well or ill - at the point when the wall came down is another kind of turn on the question of an other possible life. (Perhaps, an other world?)] [[Solang du Selbstgeworfnes fängst - Rilke]]
To your Orphic article or Christ’s “ultimate ploughing” - yes! Ovid and Virgil or Moses and Elijah could not field the game better or make Lewis Carroll more cheerful. ( I can’t wait to listen in on the interview.)
I saw Frank as a Red in the old Polo Grounds and Shea Stadium a number a times; one of the all time greats. On another note, I hope you are not being impacted by the floods in Indiana.