Dirt Dogs and Jinegar: A New Baseball Dictionary--
Baseball slang is an avalanche of skewed logic. The commonest words take
on very precise meanings. "Stuff" refers quite specifically to the
totality of a pitcher's arsenal: his array of pitches and the velocity
and movement with which he throws them. A pitcher can easily have good
stuff but not succeed if his "command"--the ability to locate pitches
accurately--is erratic. Terms associated with dirt and filth are highly
complimentary. A hitter respectfully calls an excellent pitcher
"filthy," a term that evolved out of common adjectives from a decade
ago: "nasty" and "dirty." "Dirtbags" and "dirt dogs" are consummate
hustlers, guys with perpetually soiled uniforms and caps and batting
helmets stained with sweat, tobacco juice and pine tar. Naturally,
dirtbags and dirt dogs play "dirtball." A player who is "pretty" is the
opposite of a dirtbag, as is a "muffin." Food references are as
prevalent as the television announcers who longingly mention the
hallowed postgame buffet in the players' clubhouse. The ball itself can
be an egg, apricot, apple or stitched potato. "Jelly beans" are rookies
and inexperienced kids, the type a veteran might relentlessly call bush
for a year before acknowledging him properly. Reaching base for your
team's big hitters is "setting the table." "Fat" pitches are hittable
ones, almost exclusively delectable treats, my favorite being
"ham-and-cheese." And then there's the colorful (although unfortunately
out of fashion) term for pep or spirit: "jinegar." Forms of kinship lurk
suggestively, with positive connotations only for the hitter. Batters
aspire to find their "cousin," the pitcher they manage to hit
inexplicably well. In the early 2000s the Yankees' weak-hitting utility
infielder Enrique Wilson found an unlikely cousin in the Red Sox's
masterful Pedro MartÃnez, and Pedro's tough luck against the
Yankees culminated in his admitting in an infamous interview that the
Yanks were his "daddy." It was a rare moment of hearing baseball slang
invented in real time...
Baseball slang is an avalanche of skewed logic. The commonest words take
on very precise meanings. "Stuff" refers quite specifically to the
totality of a pitcher's arsenal: his array of pitches and the velocity
and movement with which he throws them. A pitcher can easily have good
stuff but not succeed if his "command"--the ability to locate pitches
accurately--is erratic. Terms associated with dirt and filth are highly
complimentary. A hitter respectfully calls an excellent pitcher
"filthy," a term that evolved out of common adjectives from a decade
ago: "nasty" and "dirty." "Dirtbags" and "dirt dogs" are consummate
hustlers, guys with perpetually soiled uniforms and caps and batting
helmets stained with sweat, tobacco juice and pine tar. Naturally,
dirtbags and dirt dogs play "dirtball." A player who is "pretty" is the
opposite of a dirtbag, as is a "muffin." Food references are as
prevalent as the television announcers who longingly mention the
hallowed postgame buffet in the players' clubhouse. The ball itself can
be an egg, apricot, apple or stitched potato. "Jelly beans" are rookies
and inexperienced kids, the type a veteran might relentlessly call bush
for a year before acknowledging him properly. Reaching base for your
team's big hitters is "setting the table." "Fat" pitches are hittable
ones, almost exclusively delectable treats, my favorite being
"ham-and-cheese." And then there's the colorful (although unfortunately
out of fashion) term for pep or spirit: "jinegar." Forms of kinship lurk
suggestively, with positive connotations only for the hitter. Batters
aspire to find their "cousin," the pitcher they manage to hit
inexplicably well. In the early 2000s the Yankees' weak-hitting utility
infielder Enrique Wilson found an unlikely cousin in the Red Sox's
masterful Pedro MartÃnez, and Pedro's tough luck against the
Yankees culminated in his admitting in an infamous interview that the
Yanks were his "daddy." It was a rare moment of hearing baseball slang
invented in real time...