[棒球人生]人生是一场棒球比赛

　　Angrily, the manager in the movie 1)Bull Durham asserts, “This is a simple game. You throw the ball! You hit the ball! You catch the ball!”
　　I wish baseball was that simple, but many of its 2)nuances go unnoticed. I see baseball as a complex and complicated sport on many levels, much like life. In fact, I find that elements and lessons in life, like foresight, instinctual and repetitious response, success and failure, communication, and trust intermingle with the fundamentals of baseball―a parallel to life in many ways.
　　One day, following an amiable disagreement with my friend over which Major League team is the best, I said with little thought, “Baseball seems to resemble mimic life sometimes.”
　　“Yeah,” he agreed. “You can get lucky, but it all comes down to whether you can or can’t catch a 3)fly ball, hit a 4)curveball, whatever. That way you can affect the whole team and what happens in a game.”
　　Then, our conversation paused for a moment before 5)heading off on a tangent, but this thought was still in my mind a few days later when I spoke with another friend.
　　“What is it about baseball that appeals to you, Joey?” I asked.
　　“Baseball has human error in it,” he responded after a moment. “Players make mistakes. 6)Umpires are bound to make a wrong call and there’s no instant replay. You can’t go back and change a call.”
　　“Yeah, true. You can’t go back and change what happened…whether it was right or wrong.”
　　As I prepare physically and mentally for a game of no particular importance, I reflect on life and on baseball. I had made the trek from the car to the ballfield countless times, bat bag and other equipments 7)weighing me down.8)Cleats click on the pavement, transitioning to a nearly inaudible 9)thud with each step on the grass, its sweet smell overwhelming my nostrils with every breath.
　　A cool, crisp breeze 10)kicks up a cloud of dust. Pristine chalk lines reach out from 11)home plate to the 12)outfield wall. Stopping, I reminisce. My blood, sweat and tears have 13)saturated these grounds, from age five to my current 16. A feeling
　　of existence, like a second life, full of lessons, growth, and memory reside on and within this
　　simple patch of grass and dirt.
　　But it’s game time. Anxiety melts away as I take my position at second base. I plan between every pitch, going over every possibility: If the ball’s hit here... there... then I move... throw... Once the ball’s 14)in play, it’s too late to think. I have only seconds to react, yet time seems to stretch into a state of slow motion. It comes down to that practiced, repeated, instinctual motion of response, field and throw the ball. Then I realize life comes, in spite of my plan, and I must act and react in the moment.
　　As the 15)inning ends, new challenges await me.
　　Bat firmly in hand, I stand in the 16)batter’s box by home plate as I dig and grind my back foot into the dust, scrutinizing each pitch―high or low, inside or out, fastball or curve. Looking for the pitch to hit, I wait and swing, knowing both success and failure.
本文为全文原貌 未安装PDF浏览器用户请先下载安装 原版全文 　　I know my chances. It seems almost odd that 17)batting 300 (an average of three hits for every ten
　　18)at-bats) is a desired statistic, which means the other seven at-bats conclude with one more out made and my space reclaimed on the
　　19)dugout bench. Yet with each
　　at-bat there’s another opportunity to beat the odds, the nine defensemen, to watch that white, laced 20)sphere soar through the sky or skip across the ground. With each success or failure, there’s another at-bat, today or the next game, to do better or worse, and all I can do is embrace that with hope and desire.
　　By now the lights above the field shine instead of the absent sun, and the game still continues. A new batter steps up, and another pitch
　　21)barrels in. A deep fly ball. I yell to the outfielders, “Back! Back!”
　　They 22)sprint deeper, calling and yelling with urgency and assertiveness, “Mine! It’s mine! I got it!”
　　One ultimately wins the contest of position and vocal assertion, and the ball lands securely in his glove, then relayed into the 23)cut-off next to me, and back to the pitcher. Maybe he gets a nod or “Nice catch,” but an understood or verbal communication seems to be in every move, every play, even between pitches.
　　I receive signs when I bat or run bases as hand gestures, vocal aid and direction during plays, a nod of acknowledgement for a job well done. Without this vital communication, teamwork just wouldn’t be possible and the game wouldn’t work. I’m not able to read minds. Although there is trust that each person will make their play, catch, hit, and throw the ball, I need to talk and communicate; collisions, missed plays, and errors are all born from silence and misunderstanding. So this game mumbles on.
　　Following the final “out”, bat bags are repacked in preparation for another day. I stare, transfixed, at an empty field once again, no longer 24)manicured to perfection. The lines are blurred, the grass is no longer patterned. The sounds, lessons, and images remain in my mind long after the lights turn off, leaving this 25)haven to glow in the 26)iridescent glow of the moon. This sport―this place―is more to me than a few simple
　　swings of the bat, throws across the diamond, or routine 27)grounders. It seems to have a life all its own.
　　
　　
　　
　　
　　在电影《百万金臂》里，经理人生气地喊道：“这只不过是一个简单的比赛。你只要投球！击球！接球！”
　　我希望棒球真的那么简单，但他忽略了其中许多细微之处。我认为，从不同角度来说，棒球这种体育运动非常复杂，与人生酷似。事实上，我发现人生的众多元素和教训，比如预测、本能而重复的反应、成败、交流以及信任，都与棒球的基本要素交织契合――在许多方面棒球与人生都极其相似。
　　一天，我和朋友谈论哪支美国职业棒球队最优秀，我温和地表达了自己的不同看法之后，不假思索地说：“有时候棒球如同人生的缩影。”
　　“对啊，”他赞同地说道，“你可以交上好运，但是最终还是要看你能不能接住一个腾空球，击中一个曲线球什么的。这样，你就可以影响整支球队和比赛的赛况。”
　　然后，我们的谈话停顿了一会儿，就转到另一个话题上了，但是直到几天后我和另一位朋友聊天时，我对人生与棒球的想法仍然盘踞在脑海里。
　　我问他：“乔伊，你认为棒球最吸引你的是什么？”
　　“棒球存在着人为的错误，”他过了会儿回答说，“球员会犯错，裁判也会判错，而且当场没有镜头回放。你不可能回到过去，改变判罚。”
　　“是啊，确实如此。无论对错，你都不可能回到过去，改变已经发生的一切……”
　　在为一场无关紧要的棒球赛做身心准备期间，我思索着人生与棒球。无数次，我背着沉重无比的球袋和其他装备，艰难地从车里走到球场。脚上的钉鞋在人行道上“咔嗒咔嗒”地响，进入草坪后，每一步随即变得几近低沉无声，同时我的一呼一吸都充满了草坪的芳香。
　　一丝清凉的微风拂起一团烟尘。纯白的粉笔线从本垒向外场挡墙延伸。我停下脚步，陷入回忆。从五岁到现在十六岁，我在这地方洒下了多少血汗和热泪啊。就这么一块普通的草坪和土地凝聚了我的存在感，充满了教训、成长和回忆，一如我的第二人生。
本文为全文原貌 未安装PDF浏览器用户请先下载安装 原版全文 　　但是比赛开始了。我一站上二垒，焦虑随之烟消云散。在每次投球之前，我都会设想好在每一种情况下要怎样做：如果球被击到这里……那里……我就要跑
　　向……扔球……球一旦发出，就来不及细想了。我只有几秒钟的时间反应，但是时间似乎延续成了一系列的慢动作。最终是熟练、重复、本能的反应动作，在场上奔跑，扔球。这时，我意识到生活前行，不管之前我是怎样计划的，我都要立即作出反应，采取行动。
　　一局结束了，还有新的挑战等着我。
　　我站在本垒的击球员区里，双手紧握球棒，同时把往后伸的脚蹬进土里，使劲踩稳，并且仔细观察每次投球――高球或低球，向内或向外投，快球还是曲线球。我用目光搜寻着投出的球，等待着球的到来，然后挥棒一击，我知道我可能成功，也可能失败。
　　我自知成功的机会。击球率有0.300（即平均每10个球能击中3个）是很不错的成绩了，听上去很奇怪吧，也就是说再上场击球7次，然后再多出场一次，我就又要回到休息室坐着了。但是每次上场就是一次扭转劣势的机会，一次打败九个防守队员的机会，同时，藉此能够再度望着那个缝着条纹的白球飞跃天空或者在草坪上弹跳。每次成功或失败之后，都有再次上场击球的机会，只不过是在今天或是下次比赛，打得更好或是更差而已。我所能够做的，就是满怀希望和热情把握这个机会。
　　现在，日落西山，球场上亮起了灯，棒球赛仍然进行着。另一名击球手上场了，掷出的球如箭般向他飞去。球被击飞得又高又远。我向外场球员大喊：“退后！退后！”
　　他们向远处飞跑，急切而自信地喊叫着：“我的！我的球！我接到了！”
　　最终，其中一个球员先声夺人，抢位成功，用戴着手套的手把球稳稳地接住，然后传到我旁边的拦截球员手里，球最后回到投球者的手里。表面上其他球员可能只会向这个球员点点头，或者赞一句“接得好”，但是每个动作、每场比赛，甚至投球前后，大家都会做彼此心领神会的又或是语言的交流。
　　击球时我会获得同伴的暗示――跑垒时的手势，接球时打气或指向的呐喊，以及对完成某项任务表示肯定的颔首示意。少了这些重要的交流，队员根本不可能配合默契，球赛也就没法进行。我不懂读心术。虽然我相信每个人都会尽职尽责，尽力接球、击球、投球，但是我需要说话，需要交流；碰撞、错失机会和犯错都源于不肯开口和误解。所以大家都一边嚷嚷，一边打棒球。
　　随着最后一个人被判“出局”，比赛结束了，大家收拾行装准备下次比赛。我又一次呆望着空荡荡的球场，这个赛前被修整完美的球场现在已面目全非。白线都模糊了，草地也不再平整。球场的灯熄灭后，这块小天地在银月的照耀下闪闪发光，这时，球赛过程中的声音、教训和画面仍然久久萦绕在我脑海里。对于我来说，这项运动――这片天地――不仅仅意味着简单地挥挥球棒，把球掷到菱形球场的另一头，或者习惯性地追逐滚地球。棒球仿佛是有生命的。
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