A Scorecard and a Number Two Pencil

Long ago, I scored the cricket matches for my boarding school, a function of having a boyfriend on the “first eleven” (team). I sat in the scorebox with the scorekeeper from the opposing side and the resident spiders; we joined the players in the clubhouse for tea. We drew little dots in pencil for balls bowled, six per box (an “over”), drawing a large M through all six dots for a maiden (scoreless) over, or a W when it was a scoreless over with a man out, or “wicket.” Matches stretching back into the past were kept in burgundy leather-bound scorebooks, connecting me with boys who had scored when the school was still single-sex and World War Two had not yet blown up their world. I liked the precision of scoring, the order, and the way to make sense of an intricate sport.

Eight years in Boston turned me into a baseball fan (and an inevitable hater of the New York Yankees). I enjoyed nights at Fenway Park, watching the common nighthawks catch moths drawn to the floodlights, listening to the colorful language flung at the umpire (and anyone within earshot). But I didn’t learn to score baseball till I arrived in Davis, when Numenius’ brother joined us at a Sacramento River Cats game, our local AAA affiliate for the Oakland A’s. I watched him fill in the small boxes in different but somehow recognizable ways. I knew I could do this.

Encouraged by Paul Dickson’s Joy of Keeping Score, I started to keep score myself, first at games and then from the radio. The radio proved to be much easier, since the announcers explain every pitch, every decision, every vagary of errors-versus-hits. It makes it more interesting to follow the game when you know that this player struck out last at bat, flew out to left the previous one, and blooped a single first time up. It’s also a way of focusing entirely on the game, which seems to be the last reason many people go to see baseball, when there’s all the entertainment (high-tech or goofy, depending) and food and drinks. I’m often the only person I can see scoring. I’m also the only person I know who sits at home, listening to the radio, scoring games.