“How does one write the great works about life truths with a ferocity of fitting spirit and, alas, also watch baseball on TV in a state of serious simultaneous commitment? – Aye! There’s the rub.”
…. William Shakespeare
In response to yesterday’s TPPE column reference to baseball’s Shakespearean connection to the art of human drama, friend and colleague Tom Hunter of Denver sent me this collection of Shakespearean quotations that appeared in the New York Times back in 1990, thanks to a contributor from The Woodlands TX named Earl L. Dachslager. We think we saw this list several years ago, but it was just as amusing today as ever. We present it to you again here in all of its resurrected wit and glory for your personal edification and amusement:
What Shakespeare Knew About Baseball
Published: November 30, 1990 in The New York Times
To the Editor:
It’s time to settle once and for all the debate over the first references in print to the game of baseball. The earliest references to baseball occur in the plays of William Shakespeare and include the following:
“And so I shall catch the fly” (“Henry V,” Act V, scene ii).
“I’ll catch it ere it come to ground” (“Macbeth,” III, v).
“A hit, a very palpable hit!” (“Hamlet,” V, ii).
“You may go walk” (“Taming of the Shrew,” II, i).
“Strike!” (“Richard III,” I, iv).
“For this relief much thanks” (“Hamlet,” I, i).
“You have scarce time to steal” (“Henry VIII,” III, ii).
“O hateful error” (“Julius Caesar,” V, i).
“Run, run, O run!” (“King Lear,” V, iii).
“Fair is foul and foul is fair” (“Macbeth,” I, i).
“My arm is sore” (“Antony and Cleopatra,” II, v).
“I have no joy in this contract” (“Romeo and Juliet,” II, ii).
I trust that the question of who first wrote about baseball is now finally settled.
EARL L. DACHSLAGER, The Woodlands, Tex., Nov. 10, 1990
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Thank you, Earl L. Dachslager, wherever you now may be. And thank you, Tom Hunter, for bringing this mighty unifying Shakespeare and Baseball connection to our ontological notice. We shall leave you and this subject with a favorite of our own:
To be, or not to be, that is the question in Wrigleyville:
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune we have suffered since 1908,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of new troubles from Los Angeles, Cleveland, or Toronto,
And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; aye, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
And whatever those dreams may be, let them have nothing to do with 1908 foul play repercussions or the later channeled Billy Goat Curse of 1945 or the Steve Bartman Reacher Rough Night of 2003.
…. William Shakespeare
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Publisher, Editor, Writer
The Pecan Park Eagle
Houston, Texas
Tags: Shakespeare and Baseball
The Pecan Park Eagle 
October 15, 2016 at 12:22 pm |
While it has no direct reference to baseball, I thought the following quote could definitely be applied to 100+ years of Cubs fans who believed that “next year” would be their year:
“Lord, what fools these mortals be.” (A Midsummer Night’s Dream, III.ii)
Of, course, Cubs fans may be foolish no longer after another two weeks or so. Then, whom will this apply to? I shudder to think.
October 15, 2016 at 3:30 pm |
The long seasons and the years of frustration that cast a long shadow over the history of the Cubs–who played only day games at home until 1988 and whose only consolation was “Wait ’til Next Year–now have the players who could break the “curse” on the biggest stage of all, the World Series.
For the loyal Cub fans as well as those who fail to understand the appeal of our National Pastime, I offer these words from the Bard:
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Macbeth: Act V, Scene v