Just in time

 Movies don't present an accurate or realistic time scale. A guy has to drive any distance so he jumps into a conveniently close car and zooms off. He doesn't futz with the mirrors or seats, or accidentally turn on the wipers while trying to figure out where the gear shift is. No messing around with the air conditioning or heating or starting the car and having the radio playing loudly on a weird station. And he knows the way, doesn't hit traffic, finds a spot, makes all the lights, skids to a stop in a conveniently close parking spot, and doesn't get tangled in the shoulder belt. No waiting to close all the window, finishing singing to just this song, turning the key and having to jiggle it to get it out of the ignition, checking the back seat, or making a note of where he parked. He shows up right on time, regardless of distance.

Any way, time's passage in modern cinema is inconsistent and often arbitrary. So there.

On a side note, I watched the last half an hour of "Knowing" last night and I have to say that the ending was completely horrible. It was just goofy and silly.

Questions about the strike zone

 

Computers will eventually take over calling balls and strikes using a series of cameras and lasers to assess the location of the ball as it passes through the strike zone.

The strike zone, as it is based on the physical proportions of each individual [3], is constantly shifting as the batter moves in the batter’s box so the computer system would have to be able to figure the ball’s passage at the version of the strike zone extant at the specific instant that the ball crosses the plane of the zone.

The strike zone is a projection out from the batter’s body which means it has depth (unless it is purely two dimensional projection [2]) and therefore must be accounted as 3 dimensional [ibid, next sentence].

A three dimensional Strike Zone would have the depth equivalent to the breadth, from left shoulder to right shoulder of the batter, as it says, “midpoint between a batter's shoulders”.

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“take over” – now they are used on TV (*) and in pre-season as a resource to help in challenges (**)

“a series of cameras and lasers” – which have to be retrofitted into each stadium

“as it passes” –  this will be the explained below

“physical proportions” – As it is written, “The official strike zone is the area over home plate from the midpoint between a batter's shoulders and the top of the uniform pants -- when the batter is in his stance and prepared to swing at a pitched ball -- and a point just below the kneecap. In order to get a strike call, part of the ball must cross over part of home plate while in the aforementioned area.” [1]

“purely two dimensional” – but this leads to the question of “from where on the three dimensional body does the rectangle intersect? The very beginning of the body, the middle or the end?”

“3 dimensional” – questions: where when passing the breadth of the batter, must the ball be in (***) the strike zone? Can it (****) at any point, be “of” the zone, or must it do so at one specific part of the zone, though this would reduce the zone to two dimensions in a way (*****). Can a ball leave or enter the zone during its passage (i.e. is it accounted as a strike from the beginning or at the end (******) but both are unnecessary)?

“a batter's shoulders” – and if the batter moves as the ball passes through do we account the zone based on when the ball passed the midpoint even if the batter crouched at that moment to make the pitch be called a ball?

 

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[1] https://www.mlb.com/glossary/rules/strike-zone

[2] see https://www.baseballamerica.com/stories/by-ditching-mlb-rule-book-abs-strike-zone-has-found-its-footing/  which states, “Now, the zone is a two-dimensional box set at the halfway point of the plate (measured from front to back)”

[3] page 164 here https://mktg.mlbstatic.com/mlb/official-information/2025-official-baseball-rules.pdf

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

(*) though the image on the screen doesn’t seem to move with the batter and might not be the official strike zone used by the league, just a technological suggestion by the TV system

(**) I have not seen these questions dealt with so I don’t know how the pre-season judging implements its zone

(***) – or according to some, just touching

(****) – is there a minimum percentage [A] of the ball which must pass through or is a ball that even only kisses [B] the zone a strike?

(*****) – as the projection at a standard moment (for example halfway through) could then be accounted from the start as a two dimensional expression as the remainder is never necessary

(******) of a three dimensional zone with depth

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[A] some say any amount, others say one third or one half

[B] as one is next to the other connected at only a certain point but not overlapping at all, as one kisses a holy book. The rules (page 155) state “if any part of the ball passes through any part of the strike zone” but as a ball is a sphere, reckoned in 3 dimensions are we considering the strike zone also 3 dimensional? The remainder of the definition on 155-156 never explicitly says that the zone is two dimensional but it relies on an image on paper which must be 2 dimensional. Can we assume from its use of a 2 dimensional image that it is limiting itself to 2 dimensions or is it simply a convenience because when the rules were written, there was no way to account for depth in diagrams. Or maybe they just didn’t think of this question.

Magical Geometry

I think it is time for us to take a moment and admire baseball.

Is it rigged like football? The jury is still out, but in the meanwhile, we can wax poetic about the game, itself, and ignore the specific iteration that has become the MLB.

First, baseball a 3 season sport. That doesn't mean that the players play during 3 seasons (though they do) but that the sport is, as part of our cultural parlance, become identified with three distinct seasons, something no other sport has accomplished.

Baseball blooms like the early buds, who embrace the spring as it shakes off the winter and use their early flowers to make us all appreciate the change from snow and ice. Baseball heralds the warmth of the spring, and the promise of renewal, a new season, a new chance for the Mets to suck again. Like I said, poetry. It has a spring season which both matters and doesn't, but it is part of the entire baseball season. "It's warm again and there's new grass on the field."

The boys of summer really hit their pace as summer sets in. All the associations (hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet included) of the sport with summer, independence, and American Ingénue-ity, all the way to the Midsummer Classic and beyond identify baseball with the summer -- the heat, the sweat, the flies and grounders.

Then we have the autumn, dominated by the World Series and fall ball. Crisp, clear evenings watching a team work its way through the playoffs easing our way into shorter days and a chill in the air as we near the Fall Classic.

The game defines and is defined by 3 quarters of the year (and the winter meetings plus the various winter leagues) and that's awesome.

Then we have the miracle that is the dimensions in baseball. Somehow, the distance of 90 feet down the baseline is the exact right distance to make ground balls thrown to first a close play. Somehow, the distance of 3-450 feet seems to be the right dimension to weed out the home run hitters from others.

Were the numbers and angles and sizes etc built knowing the limits of human, physical performance, or have we evolved into a species which has certain responses based on the demands of baseball? Was the distance down the lines or from the pitcher to home tinkered with to find the optimal numbers, based on trial and error and human effort? If the distance down the line had been set at 85 feet, would we make for better and faster infielders or just more men on base? Are we driven by baseball, or does baseball reflect some established limitations and reality?

One third of the season is gone and the magic continues.

LFGM

Science Problems

 Yesterday, I proctored a whole bunch of really smart 11th grade kids (who cannot access the internet like my smart TV can, so who's smart now?) as they took an honors level physics final. I took physics when I was in 10th grade and I remember a very few things. I remember vectors -- a vector is the hypoteneuse of a triangle created by someone floating down river while also needing to get to a spot on shore.

Since I'm not much a sailor, I never really worried about vectors but I remember them. And the whole "compute the accelaration" thing doesn't get used much. I just push down the pedal and car makes go fast.

While I was proctoring, I discovered, though, that what I learned as the "left hand rule" is now the "right hand rule"! What the hey? When did that happen? Now, true, my grasp of physics is so limited that when I drop a ball is doesn't hit the ground, but I'm pretty sure that it was the left hand rule and it had something to do with electric current or hitchhiking. The details are not clear -- I took the final in 1985 and didn't do especially well. In fact, I felt that the most precise answer to most questions on a physics test was either "why ask me?" or "yep, that's a toughie". Strangely, those same answers worked for other science and math tests. Talk about grand unification theory!

I have, though, determined that physics, as a discpline has a lock on the best word problems. If you are taking a biology test, you get prompts like, "You eat a piece of cherry pie. Then what happens?" Not very interesting.

Or chemistry? "You add some green powder to some red liquid and light a fire -- present the formula for the brown sludge you have to comb out of your hair after the explosion." I mean, sure, "explosion" but still, meh.

Then you get to physics: "you are holding on end of a mile long spring as you float, alone in the depths of space. How high and how quickly does anyone have to send a magnetic pulse through the aither so that light will refract in a way to close a circuit without any loss of acoustic energy?"

Now that's a prompt.

The Uniform Code

 I crave consistency and predictability. I like to feel in control, so I go places early, thus controlling when I arrive. This all provides a blanket of regularity -- a reassurance that all makes sense.

So imagine my surprise when I turned on the Mets game and saw jerseys like this

I thought I was watching a Rockies game (or a Mariners game). But, no -- this is a Mets uniform which just looks like a Rockies uniform. Or a Mariners uniform.

It used to be so simple. When your team is the home team, it wears a bright white uniform. For away games, your team wears gray ones. If your team colors were blue and orange, the accents would be blue and orange. That was a rule and it made things make sense. Then suddenly, my team has a blue uniform (that's OK, the team colors include blue) and a black uniform, a red uniform and 

 and a green one

I turn on some game and the team in coral with reflective black lettering is playing the team in vermillion with neon lettering but tomorrow, they will be the team in the pixelated grayscale camouflage playing the infrared team wearing the yellow caps to commemorate the loss of the team owner's favorite chimp. Much like Dolly Parton and wigs, the teem never wears the same uniform twice. Now I understand that this is a marketing ploy to get fans to shell out for a uniform in each flavor with every and any font but I shouldn't have to be looking at a color chart to figure out who the home team is.

Home uniform, away uniform. That's all the world needs.