A One-Sentence Baseball Story by Steven Millhauser
Recommended Reading’s latest short story pick is Steven Millhauser’s wild single-sentence ode to language, baseball and their ecstatic intersection in the event of a spectacular home run. It begins:
Bottom of the ninth, two out, game tied, runners at the corners, the count full on McCluskey, the fans on their feet, this place is going wild, outfield shaded in to guard against the blooper, pitcher looks in, shakes off the sign, a big lead off first, they’re not holding him on, only run that matters is the man dancing off third…
Then “McCluskey swings, a tremendous rip, he crushes it, the crowd is screaming,” and Millhauser steamrollers on, playing with the announcer cadence, narrating as the ball arcs farther and farther: “a dinger from McSwinger, a whopper from the Big Bopper, going, going, the stands emptying out, the ball up in the mesosphere, the big guy blistered it, he powdered it, the ground crew picking up bottles and paper cups and peanut shells and hot dog wrappers, power-washing the seats, you can bet people’ll be talking about this one for a long time to come…” As the stadium clears out, the home run turns sublime:
I mean that ball is outta here, bye bye birdie, still going, down here at the park the stands are empty, sun gone down, moon’s up, nearly full, it’s a beautiful night, temperature seventy-three, another day game tomorrow then out to the West coast for a tough three-game series, the ball still going, looks like she’s headed for the moon, talk about a moon shot, man did he ever paste it outta here, higher, deeper, going, going, it’s gone past the moon, you can kiss that baby goodbye, goodnight Irene I’ll see you in my dreams, the big guy got good wood on it, right on the money, swinging for the downs, the ball still traveling, sailing past Mars, up through the asteroid belt, you gotta love it, past Jupiter, see ya Saturn, so long Uranus, arrivederci Neptune, up there now in the Milky Way, a round-tripper to the Big Dipper, a galaxy shot, a black-hole blast, how many stars are we talking about Jimmy…
As Electric Literature’s editor Halimah Marcus says in her description, it’s rare to read literary fiction that’s not intent on finding beauty’s downside; this is wholly “joyous and hopeful, a perfect specimen.”
Photo via.