One of my favorite essays involving two of my favorite things written
by David Gans
The following is the text of my famous Baseball Analogy as it appeared
in The Official Book of the Deadheads (Grushkin-Bassett-Grushkin,
Quill, 1983). It was modified somewhat from the text I submitted, and
if I ever find the original I will replace this with that. -- D.G.
Grateful Dead concerts are like baseball games: no two are ever alike.
The plays are always different, and there's always fresh hope.
Sometimes the game's an all-timer even though individual performances
are sloppy; sometimes everybody plays great but the team loses anyway.
Some people thrive on yesterday's moments, and aren't too keen on the
way the game's played today. Some have only been fans since last year
and don't care what happened way back when. You can cherish the great
victories and triumphant seasons and chart them across decades, or you
can go simply for the enjoyment of tonight and to hell with the
standings. Like all the great teams, the Dead have their pennant years
and bleak innings, perfect games and whippings, hits and foul balls,
heroes and goats.
To many they're an institution, to some mere child's play, and to
others the Grateful Dead is more or less an indispensable part of
life. There are those who say the game's too slow, that the brief
moments of action and excitement are too few and far between. Like
"America's Favorite Pastime," the Dead are both celebrated and
criticized, and some people will never see what's to enjoy.
Like big-league fans, Deadheads are as varied as the game is long.
There are scorekeepers who record every detail for statistical
analysis and a place in the Hall of Fame; camera buffs and video
freaks; armchair umpires, die-hards, groupies. Some are bleacher bums
who'd be in the stands no matter who was playing; and there are even
spousal fans who go because if they didn't, they'd be left home alone.
A lot of people attend because they've always gone and really don't
care to stop.
It may take a few visits to grasp the subtleties, but if you let
yourself into the flow of things, there's something to enjoy from the
very first moment you're there. As the old saying goes, the mind
believes what the mind believes: Grateful Dead is cerebral if you
choose to analyze it, but it's basic and instinctive too. Like the
game of baseball.
> Some people thrive on yesterday's moments, and aren't too keen on the
> way the game's played today.
Amen! That opinion is all too prevalent here, of course. But I've
been hearing it, as has every long term Deadhead, since I started
following live shows (in my case, August of 1976).
Garcia's death in 1995 gave us the biggest marker ever, or at least
since Pig's death in 73. There were people, (Jerry included) who
thought the whole Grateful Dead thing died with Pig, at least at that
moment.
In 1979 I had just returned to Chicago (at the parents house) after
spending two and a half years in the south pacific. I had tix to 3
shows at the Uptown Theater, went the first 2 nights and was thinking
about not going to the 3rd night but wanted to sell the ticket. My Dad
gave me a ride to the Uptown grumbling about how could I go see the
same group over and over. He thought it was crazy. I said crazy is
season tickets to the Cubs - I mean crazy is going to 81 baseball
games - he didnt like my analogy. Anyway, I tried to sell the ticket
but after a minute thought, what am I crazy and marched right in.
Nice, forwarded to many people.
I, too, was a hiatus-head, seeing my first show on Hunter's bday,
6/23/76, at the Tower (where I went to the movies almost every weekend
while growing up, back before the first concert there in 71--Dave
Mason/Buzzy Linhardt--and saw Hot Tuna with Papa John for the second
or third show I saw there when they were promoting Burgers), a week
after graduating high school. I'm sure there were probably older heads
who were thinking me and my buddies were ruining the scene and that we
didn't belong, even though were were in the last five rows of the
upper balcony, which was all that went on sale to the non mail-order
crowd. Waited for 5 hours in the rain for those tickets, and someone
invited everyone who was on line that day to come to a party in a
mansion on City Line. I actually went and it was a ripping good time
with a killer blues band. Didn't know a soul, but had a blast. Gone
are the days, and quickly. By the time I was a 2 show, veteran,
4/22/77, I knew things weren't the same as back during my first show.
It was you August noobs that fucked things up, or at least that was
the suss at the time.
> Garcia's death in 1995 gave us the biggest marker ever, or at least
> since Pig's death in 73. There were people, (Jerry included) who
> thought the whole Grateful Dead thing died with Pig, at least at that
> moment.
Maybe, but the memorial services they held for the next 30 odd years
sure were a hoot.
This little baseball bit by Gans was always my favorite part of the
Book of the Deadheads. Well, that and the "would you like an electric
strawberry?" bit. That was easily my most cherished and poured over
Dead related book back in the day. Haven't seen in an prolly 25+ plus
years, since my copy fell apart, but I sure would like to see another
copy someday. Gans hit that one out of the park.
Fred
Hey, Fred....can we assume from your recent upsurge in posting that
things are looking up a bit in your world these days? Good to have you
back.
JimK
Some might also say the concerts are long and boring like a baseball
game too. And some of the players like to spit a lot :0)
> Hey, Fred....can we assume from your recent upsurge in posting that
> things are looking up a bit in your world these days? Good to have you
> back.
Thanks, Jim, and thanks for asking, but, no, it is just a big bowl of
suck with no signs of letting up that I can currently see. So it
goes.
Fred