Last night Zack Cozart is on third
in the ninth, score tied, two out.
The batter, Heisey, bunts.
Cozart doesn't go for home. He would probably have been thrown out.
Cozart is a man who doesn't know
how to live. If he had been such a
man he would have understood that you don't make choices in life according to
whether you will succeed or fail, that probability, but according to whether
your chances of failure or success are better than those in your other choices.
You can distinguish between
players by whether they know how to live or not, and you can distinguish
between spectators on the same grounds.
Say Cozart goes for home and gets thrown out. "Idiot," says the fan ignorant of life. "Everybody could see how slim his
chances were."
The fan is like the historian who
blames a general for entering a battle he clearly has a good chance of
losing. "He did the wrong
thing." Good historians, like
good fans, look at all the options.
They know that you can't make a right-wrong call just by what you see,
the results. You have to imagine
the things you can't see.
OK, there's Cozart on third. Let's make him a wiser Cozart, a philosopher. He thinks through that section of life
that lies ahead. What will he do
in each eventuality? A bunt with
two out is unlikely, but a good base runner will figure everything in — so that
he doesn't have to hesitate when the moment comes.
Wise man Cozart will crank in his chances of making it. Say he figures that they are one in four. That means, among other things, that
three out of four times fans will be crying, "Idiot!" But, being a philosopher, Cozart
ignores the multitude. He sees
that his lot in life is to be standing on third with the winning run for a team
that has had a terrible time scoring runs, and that the weakest hitters in that
team's batting order, Soto and Barnhart, are coming up after him. Say that he figures their chances of
hitting him in, if he stays on third, are at best one in five.
Philosopher Cozart takes his lead
at peace with himself. Unless the
ball is dumped in front of the catcher, or bunted hard at the pitcher, he will
go. Without hesitation. A 25% chance is better than a 20%
chance. And if he's thrown out he
will walk back to the dugout still at peace, knowing he did the right thing. Whatever he's hearing from the stands.
As it played out, Cozart remained
at third, the next batter struck out, and the Reds lost in the twelfth inning a
game they could have won in the ninth.
The bunt was perfect, the third baseman was surprised, and the Boston
announcers thought that Cozart had a very good chance of making it.
If the Reds miss the playoffs by
one game we'll remember this. It's
the pain of being a baseball fan who sees his team playing for him, giving him success or failure.
And who does that fan want out there? Only philosophers.
One Zack Cozart and there goes the whole season.
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