Inside baseball is an expression that essentially means you have deep knowledge of a subject, not just baseball. You might drop names and jargon in conversation that nobody else gets unless they’re inside baseball, equally clued in to the minutia of a subject.
Did I lose you already?
You gotta be careful using inside baseball stuff because if you go too inside you’ll be the only one in there. A ferry advocate might say, How come Jim Barker isn’t at any of these ferry rallies? Why isn’t Jim Barker making more noise about keeping the ferry?
Who?
If you know Jim Barker that means you’re inside baseball on the subject of the ferry. He’s the guy who owns Seastreak, the company that operates the ferry.
Nobody – as in the general public – really knows the guy’s name. C’mon, let’s see a show of hands from people who actually ride the ferry. Could you pick Jim Barker’s name out of a lineup?
Speaking of lineups, and the criminal justice system, there was a story in the Daily News and DNAInfo this week about a publisher of a newspaper in Queens who was arrested following a spat with a neighbor. Apparently she expected the arresting office to be Inside Baseball because she screamed at him “Do you know who the F— I am?”
Oh man, oh man, oh man. Picture me biting my knuckle as I fight back going all Inside Baseball right now. How I’m dying to write more about this Queens publisher. I’ve even got stuff on tape. But there’s another expression which I’ve got to follow and that’s taking the high road. And while expressing expressions, I’ll just save the stuff for a rainy day.
Man, this high road stinks.
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Boyleing Over: Happy birthday, Helen Boyle. If you’re going to give her a gift please hold off on giving her anything to do with Buster Posey. Buster is an all-star catcher for the baseball Giants and her longtime crush on the kid is well known. All she seems to get on birthdays and Christmas are Buster Posey related items. She’s got three replica Posey uniforms hanging on her wall. And I’m not kidding. She’d trade me for Buster in a New York second.
My siblings tell me she’s a world class cook these days. I wouldn’t know, I’m still traumatized by the pork shops she served up in the Great Depression (Brooklyn, 1970’s). I still maintain they were bones stolen from the Museum of Natural History. The apple sauce on top never fooled me. Anyway, besides reportedly having improved cooking skills, she’s a proofreader extraordinaire. Every time you come across a typo don’t blame her – I just forgot to fix it. And she didn’t proof this one because I wanted the Birthday wishes to be a surprise. Errors are all mine.
Hppy brthdy, Helen !
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There’s gotta be a future column coming about closeted liberals in Rockaway.
Many libs are quite loud and proud but there’s a segment in hiding. You may have noticed the Beef Chip column shows a person’ s head covered by a paper bag. The image always makes me think of the people who lean in and whisper, I’m kind of a liberal. Like it’s a state secret. Hey, from what I hear, you can be a liberal and still detest the mayor, so what’s the worry?
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