Welcome to the Junk Ball Lover's Club

A guide to the weird and wonderful world of baseball.

After floating the idea for years, I think I’m ready. 

I’ve wanted to write about baseball for a long time. I’ve lacked the courage to take that step towards putting in the work, afraid I don’t have anything to add to an already crowded baseball media landscape full of magical writers who inspire and inform daily. So why now? I’m feeling inspired. 

The concept for Junk Ball Lover’s Club is simple: to celebrate the quirky, funny, cute and beautiful parts of the game of baseball. 

You’re reading this newsletter, which suggests you know baseball is currently returning from its owner-induced lockout. You know the expression ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’? Yeah, that. The rhythm of baseball, the daily pitter-patter of the sport on our lives is a reason to get up and keep going - to see what tomorrow’s game will bring. After all, I need to be there when Vlad Guerrero Jr. wins World Series MVP. 

You probably are here because you follow me on Twitter (@Junk_Baller). That, or you’re related to me (hi mom!). You’ve seen bad opinions, an over-reliance on Office memes, a borderline unhealthy admiration for journeyman infielder Freddy Galvis and, presumably, something you found amusing. 

If you’ve watched baseball with any regularity throughout your life, you know how beautiful this silly little game can be. What any outsider sees is one person throwing a baseball in roughly the direction of another person holding a stick. But for those of us who love it, having baseball in our lives is like being part of a secret club. You’ve probably skipped social obligations to watch the end of a game. Maybe you’ve asked a bar to switch the channel to catch the end of a no-hitter. God knows I have.

Here at Junk Ball Lover’s Club, we’re going to celebrate the weird and the beautiful. If you are a person focused on statistics, this probably isn’t the newsletter for you. That’s not to suggest you won’t find anything interesting here, or that there’s anything wrong with people who use their fandom to focus on statistics. Part of the beauty of baseball is that you can love it in so many different ways and for so many different reasons.

Along with writing about the quirky and the charming, I hope to construct mini-essays about any themes that present themselves throughout the season. Before becoming an educator, in what feels like another life completely, I was a news and sports reporter. I’ve let that muscle atrophy for three years, so consider this newsletter my big stretch. Please be patient as the newsletter grows, evolves and finds its legs. These first few will be my equivalent of spring training.

As an avid reader and consumer of media, I’ll be sharing books, articles, music and videos that inspire me. Hopefully they can inspire you too.

If you’re still reading, thank you. It’s hard for me to fathom that anyone would care what I have to say about anything, let alone baseball.

I often think about what makes baseball different, why it feels different from the variety of other sports and sports fandom available to consumers. There’s a lot, obviously, but one thing that spring to mind is that special, history-making things can happen on any given night. I’ll give you an example: On May 8, 2018, I was offered a ticket to the Toronto Blue Jays home game against the Seattle Mariners. It was a Tuesday night and due to other obligations, I wasn’t able to make the game. Instead, I watched on my phone as Canadian pitcher James Paxton threw a no-hitter for the Mariners. I’ve made it my mission to see a no-hitter live and this might be the best change I ever get. Even with a 162-game schedule, each game matters. Not every sport can say that.

Here’s a little homework if you’re up for it: Go watch Dee Gordon’s home run after Jose Fernandez’ passed away September of 2016.  

As Dee Gordon stepped to the plate against Bartolo Colon (we’ll get back to him in a future newsletter), the building was electric. Heartbreak could be heard in each call the announcers made. The fans, the team and the league were grappling with the fact that one of the integral, bright young players in Jose Fernandez was dead. 

That night, a soft-hitting Gordon, with Fernandez’ name and number on his back, walked to the plate and cranked a deep homerun with tears in his eyes. He rounded the bases, crossed home plate and was embraced by his loving teammates. 

Darren Rovell @darrenrovell

Dee Gordon's home run is even more special when you understand the odds. In his career, he had hit a home run once every 269 at bats.

For context, that works out to about three homeruns in a full season. And on this night, in this moment, when nothing would have meant more to Gordon or the Miami Marlins franchise, he smashed that ball over the fence.

That is the magic of baseball.