I trace the decline of baseball as America’s Pastime to the introduction of the Aluminum Bat.
There is no sound so sweet, that goes straight to the core of one’s very Life Force, as the complex Crack of a polished stick of ash hammering a hidebound ball on that perfect spot, just the right distance from the end of the bat, where all the energy goes into the heart of the ball, and you can FEEL the ball soar long and deep into the sky.
A polished stick of aluminum, on the other hand, makes a sound like a rock on a chain-like fence pipe.
“Tink”.
“Tink” doesn’t go to the core of anybody’s soul.
Thank goodness I never had to swing an aluminum bat. You’re right. “Tink” goes nowhere. Nothing like the sweet spot of an ash bat. The bat flows right through the ball.
Yes, but the line drives off of an aluminum bat could make Mark Belanger hit like Mark McGwire.
As well as decapitate unwary infielders.