The Virtue of Temperance

When I was in high school I got into an argument with a friend about how often they should play our favorite song on the radio.  He wanted to hear it as many times as possible, because it was his favorite.  I wanted it only once a day, because it was my favorite.

My friend thought I was insane.  If I liked it so much, I should want it all the time.  But I wanted to KEEP liking it. If it was on the radio every hour, I’d get tired of it.  A source of pleasure would disappear from the face of the Earth.  I wanted it in sparing doses so it would not be ruined for me. 

I don’t remember now what song it was.  I think my friend probably came closer to getting his wish than I did. 

My approach doesn’t always work out.  When I was in college I had a different friend who was my roommate for two years.  Every so often I’d bring to our Weesner Village apartment a big batch of chocolate chip cookies my mom made.  I’d take one or two once or twice a day.  Which meant I’d get maybe a half dozen of the cookies, because my friend would eat them by the fistful.  I don’t think the cookies ever lasted 48 hours.  

I’ve lost touch with my high school friend.  My college friend is currently in first place in this here league, doggone it, hogging the cookies again. 

My high school friend wasn’t much of a baseball fan.  But my college friend is, so you’d think he would instinctively know that too much of a good thing is a bad thing. 

Or maybe I’m deluding myself.  Maybe there’s no connection between baseball and the wisdom of moderation.  Consider no-hitters.

There was another no-hitter yesterday, remarkable in 2021 only for the brazenness with which it occurred less than 24 hours after the Mariners were also mugged in a dark alley.  So which would be the bigger news blast today?

    a.  A no hitter for the third straight day.

    b.  Two no hitters in one day.

    c.   No no-hitters, for once. 

To my eyes, the Yankees’ celebration for Corey Kluber seemed a bit forced.  You could see them all thinking to themselves, “It’s a no-hitter.  It’s supposed to be a big deal. It’s not Corey’s fault they’ve become as common as a shutout used to be.” You could even see it in Kluber’s reaction.  No-hitters used to be his dream outing.  But what’s so great about it when it happens every day? A source of pleasure is getting ruined by no longer being rare.