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Watching the Show
The Stoneville Tigers were doing their best to lose their season opener. Ahead two runs to the visiting Ridgefield Coyotes’ one, Davis had thrown a knuckleball, hoping the pitch would lurch just out of bat’s reach. But instead of veering off, the ball went right in the middle of the strike zone and then over the centerfield fence. Now it was the bottom of the ninth, all tied up and with two outs. Matthews was at bat with one ball and two strikes, Whitehouse and Donovan were on-base, and Jeremy was still dead.
Max, who sat alone high up in section 201, didn’t want to think about his brother. He wanted to think about the game and the Tigers’ chances at the state playoffs and which players would go pro after the season was over.
But staring at Matthews tapping his cleats with an aluminum Louisville Slugger just made Max think about the black no-slip shoes sitting on the front porch, and how Jeremy left them out there because he didn’t want to track kitchen grease from Milligan’s Bar on Mom’s wood floors.
“That’s awfully nice of you, hon,” Mom had said when she first noticed. It wasn’t until later, when Max and Jeremy were walking to last season's closer, that Jeremy told the truth.
“I don’t give a damn about the floor,” he said. “I’ve been scrubbing dishes all night. But she’d never let me hear the end of it if she slipped. Even if she died from the fall, she’d find some way to nag me about it.”
Matthews steadied himself and braced the bat over his shoulder. A left-handed hitter, Matthews had often been the bane of the opposing teams’ defense.
The Coyote pitcher steadied and threw the ball right down the middle.
Crack.
The ball sailed backwards over the press box and landed with a thunk in the parking lot.
Max let out a breath. Foul balls were the specter that held over him each ballgame, their shadow somewhat lighter up here in the nosebleeds. The ticket he’d bought put him in the lower section, but it was down along first base and just past the protective net.
“It’s your teeth,” Jeremy had told him, sitting up in the same spot with a half-drunken Budweiser in one hand and dry peanuts in the other. “Mom and Dad spent so much money making them come out right, you don’t want to risk breaking them.”
“I don’t like things coming at me,” Max said. “At my teeth or otherwise.”
Jeremy chortled. “If you were British, that wouldn’t matter.”
The pitcher let loose the next ball. Matthews watched it whiz by, just barely above home plate. The umpire remained silent, but the whole stadium understood.
Two-two.
An indecipherable set of symbols flew from the catcher’s fingers. The pitcher shook his head until an agreeable one came his way. After a quick glance towards Whitehouse and Donovan, the latter of whom had been inching ever further from second, the pitcher took position.
“I really wish you were sticking around,” Max had told him. “You like coming here.”
Jeremy shrugged. “They got plenty of ball in Chicago. Not as cheap, but still fun for us devotees.”
Max shook his head. “I’m not. I can’t even remember if we still play Mulvane anymore.”
“You like it enough,” Jeremy said, flinging a peanut into his open mouth. “You’ll at least come to next year’s opening. Just for that first-game magic.”
Max glanced over towards the empty bleachers and a discarded box of popcorn lying further down the row.
“I guess you were right about that,” Max said.
Crack.
Max turned just in time to see the ball bounce towards the shortstop, Donovan almost to third by the time the ball hit the Coyote’s glove.
In a rush, the shortstop flung it to second. The promise of extra innings seemed to whisper through the anxious crowd, a long battle in place of the clean-cut ending every sports movie promised.
But the ball flew too high, over the second baseman’s head and his outstretched glove.
Max and the rest of Ulysses Arthur Stadium got to their feet as Donovan passed home plate, and the Tigers’ bench flooded the field to dogpile their teammate.
Max stood and clapped with everybody else, his hands connecting a split-second out of tandem with the crowd’s. But with each celebratory whoop and joyous shriek below, a ghost of a smile eased across his face.
Max, who sat alone high up in section 201, didn’t want to think about his brother. He wanted to think about the game and the Tigers’ chances at the state playoffs and which players would go pro after the season was over.
But staring at Matthews tapping his cleats with an aluminum Louisville Slugger just made Max think about the black no-slip shoes sitting on the front porch, and how Jeremy left them out there because he didn’t want to track kitchen grease from Milligan’s Bar on Mom’s wood floors.
“That’s awfully nice of you, hon,” Mom had said when she first noticed. It wasn’t until later, when Max and Jeremy were walking to last season's closer, that Jeremy told the truth.
“I don’t give a damn about the floor,” he said. “I’ve been scrubbing dishes all night. But she’d never let me hear the end of it if she slipped. Even if she died from the fall, she’d find some way to nag me about it.”
Matthews steadied himself and braced the bat over his shoulder. A left-handed hitter, Matthews had often been the bane of the opposing teams’ defense.
The Coyote pitcher steadied and threw the ball right down the middle.
Crack.
The ball sailed backwards over the press box and landed with a thunk in the parking lot.
Max let out a breath. Foul balls were the specter that held over him each ballgame, their shadow somewhat lighter up here in the nosebleeds. The ticket he’d bought put him in the lower section, but it was down along first base and just past the protective net.
“It’s your teeth,” Jeremy had told him, sitting up in the same spot with a half-drunken Budweiser in one hand and dry peanuts in the other. “Mom and Dad spent so much money making them come out right, you don’t want to risk breaking them.”
“I don’t like things coming at me,” Max said. “At my teeth or otherwise.”
Jeremy chortled. “If you were British, that wouldn’t matter.”
The pitcher let loose the next ball. Matthews watched it whiz by, just barely above home plate. The umpire remained silent, but the whole stadium understood.
Two-two.
An indecipherable set of symbols flew from the catcher’s fingers. The pitcher shook his head until an agreeable one came his way. After a quick glance towards Whitehouse and Donovan, the latter of whom had been inching ever further from second, the pitcher took position.
“I really wish you were sticking around,” Max had told him. “You like coming here.”
Jeremy shrugged. “They got plenty of ball in Chicago. Not as cheap, but still fun for us devotees.”
Max shook his head. “I’m not. I can’t even remember if we still play Mulvane anymore.”
“You like it enough,” Jeremy said, flinging a peanut into his open mouth. “You’ll at least come to next year’s opening. Just for that first-game magic.”
Max glanced over towards the empty bleachers and a discarded box of popcorn lying further down the row.
“I guess you were right about that,” Max said.
Crack.
Max turned just in time to see the ball bounce towards the shortstop, Donovan almost to third by the time the ball hit the Coyote’s glove.
In a rush, the shortstop flung it to second. The promise of extra innings seemed to whisper through the anxious crowd, a long battle in place of the clean-cut ending every sports movie promised.
But the ball flew too high, over the second baseman’s head and his outstretched glove.
Max and the rest of Ulysses Arthur Stadium got to their feet as Donovan passed home plate, and the Tigers’ bench flooded the field to dogpile their teammate.
Max stood and clapped with everybody else, his hands connecting a split-second out of tandem with the crowd’s. But with each celebratory whoop and joyous shriek below, a ghost of a smile eased across his face.
Alternate Title: A League of His Own
Once again we have an entry that focuses on something I have nominal interest in (this time it's baseball) and does something interesting, even endearing, enough with it that I'm able to stay invested.
I will say, though, that unlike "Ingénue, c. 2003" the pill here is quite tougher to swallow. On a prose level, this entry's biggest strength is also the thing holding it back the most, at least for people who aren't into baseball. It's clear to me that the author has a certain love for the sport, and I can respect that because it shows beautifully in the writing. The closest thing I can think of to compare this to is the opening section of Don DeLillo's Underworld, which uses a baseball match in its prologue as like a stage for the play that is the various character conflicts.
In this case it's Max mourning over his death brother, although whether Jeremy is completely gone or appears as a ghost strikes me as on the ambiguous side. Personally I think it's more heartwarming if Jeremy really was there at the game as a ghost, alongside Max; it certainly adds a layer to the ending, which I think is written quite well, if perhaps a bit cheeky.
I mean, the "ghost of a smile" line popped out at me from the first reading, and re-reading this entry has only made it more apparent, but also more purposeful, assuming that's what the author was going for.
The biggest criticism I can think of for this story is that maybe too much attention is given to the nitty gritty details of the baseball game, bordering on fetishism, but then writers are generally infamous for inserting their fetishes (sexual or otherwise) into their work. It's understandable, if slightly counter-intuitive.
I quite like this entry, though. I can see it making the top 3 on my slate.
Once again we have an entry that focuses on something I have nominal interest in (this time it's baseball) and does something interesting, even endearing, enough with it that I'm able to stay invested.
I will say, though, that unlike "Ingénue, c. 2003" the pill here is quite tougher to swallow. On a prose level, this entry's biggest strength is also the thing holding it back the most, at least for people who aren't into baseball. It's clear to me that the author has a certain love for the sport, and I can respect that because it shows beautifully in the writing. The closest thing I can think of to compare this to is the opening section of Don DeLillo's Underworld, which uses a baseball match in its prologue as like a stage for the play that is the various character conflicts.
In this case it's Max mourning over his death brother, although whether Jeremy is completely gone or appears as a ghost strikes me as on the ambiguous side. Personally I think it's more heartwarming if Jeremy really was there at the game as a ghost, alongside Max; it certainly adds a layer to the ending, which I think is written quite well, if perhaps a bit cheeky.
I mean, the "ghost of a smile" line popped out at me from the first reading, and re-reading this entry has only made it more apparent, but also more purposeful, assuming that's what the author was going for.
The biggest criticism I can think of for this story is that maybe too much attention is given to the nitty gritty details of the baseball game, bordering on fetishism, but then writers are generally infamous for inserting their fetishes (sexual or otherwise) into their work. It's understandable, if slightly counter-intuitive.
I quite like this entry, though. I can see it making the top 3 on my slate.
Very nice:
Though as someone who isn't into baseball, I'll echo >>No_Raisin's comment that there's too much of it here. In fact, I'd recommend cutting the first three sentences entirely and starting the story with the last sentence of that first paragraph. That would give us the baseball and the dead brother right from the get-go. I'd also like some idea of how the brother died, but then I'm just nosey that way. Oh, and I didn't get an sense of Jeremy being there as a ghost. It all struck me as Max remembering stuff.
Mike
Though as someone who isn't into baseball, I'll echo >>No_Raisin's comment that there's too much of it here. In fact, I'd recommend cutting the first three sentences entirely and starting the story with the last sentence of that first paragraph. That would give us the baseball and the dead brother right from the get-go. I'd also like some idea of how the brother died, but then I'm just nosey that way. Oh, and I didn't get an sense of Jeremy being there as a ghost. It all struck me as Max remembering stuff.
Mike
Your Story's Theme Song: Caracara - Oh Brother
So, this was pretty nice.
First off, I don't have an understanding on the whats, hows and whys of baseball, so the terminology definitely flew past my head much like how the ball flew 'over the second baseman’s head and his outstretched glove', to paraphrase, so I can definitely see where >>No_Raisin and, in turn, >>Baal Bunny have their concerns. On the notion of trimming it down, however, I'm honestly on the fence.
I actually think the terminology doesn't impede the prose in any way, at least not when I consider it in context. After all, we're looking at it all from the perspective of Max, a person who loves baseball, or at least had the love of baseball nurtured in him mostly thanks in part to Jeremy. Thus, the implementation of baseball lingo felt natural me, especially since it didn't clutter up most of this story as I've seen some past entries often do.
Now, on a more personal note, I pretty much glazed over all the bits and pieces when it comes to the game at hand, sorry about that. However, my overlooking of those sections in the prose had me paying more attention in the others, and what I got from it genuinely piqued my interest. The little hints of spectres and ghosts littered throughout were really neat and gave the story the emotional context and catharsis I wanted.
Also, I really, really like the double segue here.
All in all, this is definitely something that will land at the top half of my slate. Here's hoping it will do well with everyone else as well!
Thank you for writing this and good luck, fellow writer!
So, this was pretty nice.
First off, I don't have an understanding on the whats, hows and whys of baseball, so the terminology definitely flew past my head much like how the ball flew 'over the second baseman’s head and his outstretched glove', to paraphrase, so I can definitely see where >>No_Raisin and, in turn, >>Baal Bunny have their concerns. On the notion of trimming it down, however, I'm honestly on the fence.
I actually think the terminology doesn't impede the prose in any way, at least not when I consider it in context. After all, we're looking at it all from the perspective of Max, a person who loves baseball, or at least had the love of baseball nurtured in him mostly thanks in part to Jeremy. Thus, the implementation of baseball lingo felt natural me, especially since it didn't clutter up most of this story as I've seen some past entries often do.
Now, on a more personal note, I pretty much glazed over all the bits and pieces when it comes to the game at hand, sorry about that. However, my overlooking of those sections in the prose had me paying more attention in the others, and what I got from it genuinely piqued my interest. The little hints of spectres and ghosts littered throughout were really neat and gave the story the emotional context and catharsis I wanted.
Also, I really, really like the double segue here.
“You like it enough,” Jeremy said, flinging a peanut into his open mouth. “You’ll at least come to next year’s opening. Just for that first-game magic.”
Max glanced over towards the empty bleachers and a discarded box of popcorn lying further down the row.
“I guess you were right about that,” Max said.
All in all, this is definitely something that will land at the top half of my slate. Here's hoping it will do well with everyone else as well!
Thank you for writing this and good luck, fellow writer!
It's a baseball story, so of course I like it.
I know people can get too into a subject they care about, and if >>Baal Bunny says there's too much here for his taste, I can't call him wrong, but to me, I don't think it goes over the line. You can't have a baseball story without baseball, and it's not like you have to be an expert in it to understand the important points of what's going on. If I look at the amount of baseball here and ask myself if reading a story with that much ballet in it would annoy me, no, I don't think it would.
I did pretty fairly whiff (heh) on a lot of this, though. I didn't take Jeremy's death as literal. I mean, it does explicitly say that up front, but it's wedged in the game situation to a degree that I took it figuratively. I thought Jeremy was the pitcher in trouble. (Why's he throwing down the middle to a guy known to be their bane anyway, and not in a way Max takes as a mistake?) So I was left confused as to why Max is happy that the batting team wins until I figured out Jeremy wasn't there. Clearing that one thing up would not have only fixed all that in my mind but also probably made it feel more natural the way you kept working in flashbacks without transitions.
Then where he's sitting didn't quite jive in the description either. Section 201 wouldn't be very high up. He calls it nosebleeds, and for a low enough level of baseball, that may well be the highest part of the bleachers, but he never indicates he means that anything more than sincerely. Yet that high up, a foul ball isn't nearly the same threat.
But knowing that Jeremy is dead kind of left me disconnected from the story's message a bit. It's still there: that Max's love for the game isn't going to die with Jeremy. But I don't get why this is a passion shared so much, why this is something bigger because they both love it than it would be individually.
Then even if I had picked up on it being a literal death early on, it ends up not mattering. Jeremy was leaving town anyway. The story's message would still be there. What does having him die add? We never get any circumstances about it. It's not clear death has any more impact on Max than simple absence would, so why ratchet it up like that for no additional payoff? It makes the story feel a little cheaper.
I know people can get too into a subject they care about, and if >>Baal Bunny says there's too much here for his taste, I can't call him wrong, but to me, I don't think it goes over the line. You can't have a baseball story without baseball, and it's not like you have to be an expert in it to understand the important points of what's going on. If I look at the amount of baseball here and ask myself if reading a story with that much ballet in it would annoy me, no, I don't think it would.
I did pretty fairly whiff (heh) on a lot of this, though. I didn't take Jeremy's death as literal. I mean, it does explicitly say that up front, but it's wedged in the game situation to a degree that I took it figuratively. I thought Jeremy was the pitcher in trouble. (Why's he throwing down the middle to a guy known to be their bane anyway, and not in a way Max takes as a mistake?) So I was left confused as to why Max is happy that the batting team wins until I figured out Jeremy wasn't there. Clearing that one thing up would not have only fixed all that in my mind but also probably made it feel more natural the way you kept working in flashbacks without transitions.
Then where he's sitting didn't quite jive in the description either. Section 201 wouldn't be very high up. He calls it nosebleeds, and for a low enough level of baseball, that may well be the highest part of the bleachers, but he never indicates he means that anything more than sincerely. Yet that high up, a foul ball isn't nearly the same threat.
But knowing that Jeremy is dead kind of left me disconnected from the story's message a bit. It's still there: that Max's love for the game isn't going to die with Jeremy. But I don't get why this is a passion shared so much, why this is something bigger because they both love it than it would be individually.
Then even if I had picked up on it being a literal death early on, it ends up not mattering. Jeremy was leaving town anyway. The story's message would still be there. What does having him die add? We never get any circumstances about it. It's not clear death has any more impact on Max than simple absence would, so why ratchet it up like that for no additional payoff? It makes the story feel a little cheaper.
Matthews was at bat with one ball and two strikes, Whitehouse and Donovan were on-base, and Jeremy was still dead.
This is a fantastic hook, and I wish it came earlier in the paragraph.
It’s a baseball story, so of course I don’t care.
:)
I mean your first paragraph is 99% nonsensical to me. It’s a clutter of meaningless words apparently organised in a grammatically correct way, but that’s all it is. I don’t have an inning of what’s going on.
As a consequence, I don’t even want to read the rest.
But since I decently can’t penalise you for writing a story I’m not in the audience thereof, I will simply abstain.
For this once.
Don’t tell me I don’t go to bat for you.
Please avoid American football too.
And cricket.
:)
I mean your first paragraph is 99% nonsensical to me. It’s a clutter of meaningless words apparently organised in a grammatically correct way, but that’s all it is. I don’t have an inning of what’s going on.
As a consequence, I don’t even want to read the rest.
But since I decently can’t penalise you for writing a story I’m not in the audience thereof, I will simply abstain.
For this once.
Don’t tell me I don’t go to bat for you.
Please avoid American football too.
And cricket.
Author, instead of giving you the lecture you deserve on the reprehensible evil of baseball, I'm going to do a little nitpicking on your opening, because first impressions in stories are extremely important and little minor issues which wouldn't throw me out of the story later on can keep me from engaging up front:
1) I like what you're trying to do with the starting hook — but if the Tigers are ahead, they're really not doing their best to lose. Doing their best to squander their lead, perhaps (especially since they end the paragraph merely tied).
2) The four names you mention are Matthews, Whitehouse, Donovan, and Jeremy. Three lasts and a first, and that threw me hard.
3) It took me until my second read to question whether Jeremy was even on the team, as I'd initially assumed. It's taken me until my third read to answer that question 'no', and I'm still not sure. The whole paragraph is laser-focused on how circumstances are threatening a Tiger loss. If Jeremy has nothing to do with that, you're breaking expectations you built up in a throw-readers-out-of-the-story kind of way.
Moving on: this has got a quite literary-fiction vibe to it, and I think for the most part the effect is pulled off well. After the roughness of the first paragraph, the segue to the personal recollections is pretty smooth and I like how this interweaves its two halves.
Not what?
... okay, after some rereading that's probably an implied "devotee", but there's actually a bigger problem with that line. You already led the story with Jeremy not being there because he's dead. Now you're introducing a second departure element, of Jeremy not being there because he went to Chicago, which seems to me like it's just muddying the issue. Especially since we never get any hint of what killed Jeremy, or why he left.
And that sort of drags down the ending, too. It feels like a statement about Max coming to terms with his brother's absence, but that absence doesn't feel grounded enough for the emotional impact of resolving it to fully hit me. I mean, I guess it's good that Max is finding some happiness after his brother's death, but he only ever mentions it once, back at the beginning, and seems to have been more emotionally impacted by his departure for Chicago (at least by words used to examine the issue). I should be feeling things along with him, not wondering what the situation was and why.
Regardless, this still mostly accomplishes its goals, and is still going to kick around the top half of my slate. Thanks for writing!
The Stoneville Tigers were doing their best to lose their season opener. Ahead two runs to the visiting Ridgefield Coyotes’ one, Davis had thrown a knuckleball, hoping the pitch would lurch just out of bat’s reach. But instead of veering off, the ball went right in the middle of the strike zone and then over the centerfield fence. Now it was the bottom of the ninth, all tied up and with two outs. Matthews was at bat with one ball and two strikes, Whitehouse and Donovan were on-base, and Jeremy was still dead.
1) I like what you're trying to do with the starting hook — but if the Tigers are ahead, they're really not doing their best to lose. Doing their best to squander their lead, perhaps (especially since they end the paragraph merely tied).
2) The four names you mention are Matthews, Whitehouse, Donovan, and Jeremy. Three lasts and a first, and that threw me hard.
3) It took me until my second read to question whether Jeremy was even on the team, as I'd initially assumed. It's taken me until my third read to answer that question 'no', and I'm still not sure. The whole paragraph is laser-focused on how circumstances are threatening a Tiger loss. If Jeremy has nothing to do with that, you're breaking expectations you built up in a throw-readers-out-of-the-story kind of way.
Moving on: this has got a quite literary-fiction vibe to it, and I think for the most part the effect is pulled off well. After the roughness of the first paragraph, the segue to the personal recollections is pretty smooth and I like how this interweaves its two halves.
Jeremy shrugged. “They got plenty of ball in Chicago. Not as cheap, but still fun for us devotees.”
Max shook his head. “I’m not. ...
Not what?
... okay, after some rereading that's probably an implied "devotee", but there's actually a bigger problem with that line. You already led the story with Jeremy not being there because he's dead. Now you're introducing a second departure element, of Jeremy not being there because he went to Chicago, which seems to me like it's just muddying the issue. Especially since we never get any hint of what killed Jeremy, or why he left.
And that sort of drags down the ending, too. It feels like a statement about Max coming to terms with his brother's absence, but that absence doesn't feel grounded enough for the emotional impact of resolving it to fully hit me. I mean, I guess it's good that Max is finding some happiness after his brother's death, but he only ever mentions it once, back at the beginning, and seems to have been more emotionally impacted by his departure for Chicago (at least by words used to examine the issue). I should be feeling things along with him, not wondering what the situation was and why.
Regardless, this still mostly accomplishes its goals, and is still going to kick around the top half of my slate. Thanks for writing!
It legit took a second read after noticing comments to really click. The Jeremy was still dead line is just too well integrated into the sentence and I thought it was possibly terminology (stuck in a bad spot, etc). It is nice at how smooth it is, but you probably need to call at least a little more attention to it.
Prompt Relevance... I have no idea and I am too sleepy to think about.
Prompt Relevance... I have no idea and I am too sleepy to think about.
Watching the Show: A Retrospective
A near year of absence, with an end result of fourth place? Pretty neat. Managing to sneak a baseball pun into the title that nobody commented on? Priceless.
The genesis of this story is deceptively simple. The day before I wrote this, I'd gone to my university's opening game at our stadium, where the ending inning had roughly the same events as described in this story. After that, I went home and watched the movie "Moneyball", which is also about baseball and about the melancholic nature of the sport. From that, I concocted a story involving baseball that aimed to imitate the lonely feeling one has when sitting in the high bleachers with nobody else (much as I did that night). The prompt itself assisted this, given "In Name Only" is how both the Tigers' are described (only by their last names, not their positions) and played into Jeremy's fate (Max only really has Jeremy's name left to him).
If there's any innate regrets I have to this piece, it's the rough/unedited nature of some of the writing and the fact I didn't clarify certain details. I pictured Max and Jeremy being in their late teens/early twenties, but that doesn't really come through in the final draft. I also pictured the piece being more Max's memories than any supernatural element a la Jeremy's ghost coming back, but the writing does seem to blur that line a little too much. And of course, the general location of the stadium was supposed to be somewhere in the deep Midwest (hence the Chicago line), but this version could be literally anywhere in America. Normally this'd be fine, but the Midwest provides a certain sadness, desolateness, and boredom that I thought fit the story like a glove.
With all of that in mind, there is one element I will defend: Jeremy's death. Some of you said that you thought it was cheap/needlessly excessive, or wanted more information about it. However, in my mind, him being dead is stronger than him simply leaving the town, because not only does Max not get to see him, Jeremy doesn't get to experience the sport he loves ever again. That makes the experience more innately sad, as its two people denied pleasure instead of just one, something Jeremy simply leaving the town wouldn't really provide. And as for the death itself, I wrote a few different explanations for his death, but cut all of them when I realized they distracted more than added to the story. Having lost some loved ones myself, I find that after a certain amount of time passes (as in the story), the sensation of their absence tends to weigh more heavily than the actual cause of their departure. And I thought leaving out the cause of death illustrated that in this story; the fact Jeremy isn't there anymore was more important than why he couldn't be there anymore.
Regardless, thanks to >>No_Raisin, >>Baal Bunny, >>WritingSpirit, >>Pascoite, >>Dubs_Rewatcher, >>Monokeras, >>horizon, and >>AndrewRogue for all of the comments and suggestions. Whether you like baseball, hate it, or were just plain confused, I hope you all enjoyed the show.
>>libertydude
This is a common fallacy that many writers fall into. I have no idea that it's stronger in your mind, but the relevant point is whether it's stronger in the reader's mind, and here... it really isn't. More tragedy doesn't automatically mean more reader engagement. Often quite the opposite: if the tragedy isn't justified, or if it feel unnecessary to the plot, it'll kick me out of the story as a too-easy grab for emotions. That's really how I felt about it here. I didn't have enough information about why it matters to the story, so it never became a detail I cared about.
Not sure why you were expecting people to comment on the title either. It's a pretty transparent reference to people who know the terminology, and I wouldn't call it a pun.
However, in my mind, him being dead is stronger than him simply leaving the town
This is a common fallacy that many writers fall into. I have no idea that it's stronger in your mind, but the relevant point is whether it's stronger in the reader's mind, and here... it really isn't. More tragedy doesn't automatically mean more reader engagement. Often quite the opposite: if the tragedy isn't justified, or if it feel unnecessary to the plot, it'll kick me out of the story as a too-easy grab for emotions. That's really how I felt about it here. I didn't have enough information about why it matters to the story, so it never became a detail I cared about.
Not sure why you were expecting people to comment on the title either. It's a pretty transparent reference to people who know the terminology, and I wouldn't call it a pun.
>>Pascoite
I certainly agree that an unnecessarily high degree of tragedy can hurt a story; I've read many a story where the events seem a bit too extreme for the story material. I also understand why you think Jeremy's death doesn't quite fit, and that goes along with my retrospective's admission that a lot of details I wanted to include didn't make it into the final draft. Things like the causes of Jeremy's death and the setting of the story were some of these, and they were meant to tie into the Midwest's cultural attitude towards baseball and death. With these elements, I think Jeremy's death would've fit better and underlined the story's central message: even if a player leaves the field forever, the game still goes on.
I also wasn't really bragging over the title; I was merely surprised that nobody pointed it out. It'd be like if the story was about college football and nobody commented about it being called "Off the Port Bowden". And maybe it's not quite a pun, but it is at least a little bit of wordplay.
I certainly agree that an unnecessarily high degree of tragedy can hurt a story; I've read many a story where the events seem a bit too extreme for the story material. I also understand why you think Jeremy's death doesn't quite fit, and that goes along with my retrospective's admission that a lot of details I wanted to include didn't make it into the final draft. Things like the causes of Jeremy's death and the setting of the story were some of these, and they were meant to tie into the Midwest's cultural attitude towards baseball and death. With these elements, I think Jeremy's death would've fit better and underlined the story's central message: even if a player leaves the field forever, the game still goes on.
I also wasn't really bragging over the title; I was merely surprised that nobody pointed it out. It'd be like if the story was about college football and nobody commented about it being called "Off the Port Bowden". And maybe it's not quite a pun, but it is at least a little bit of wordplay.