WALK-UP WEEK! Sacred Sunday: “I Need Jesus On My Journey,” James Cleveland and the Gospel All-Stars

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To equate using a thin wooden stick to hit a tiny ball traveling at 102 miles an hour with faith, one might very well need some sort of higher power’s help to hit a home run.  These three minutes of gospel awesomeness might do the trick.

WALK-UP WEEK! Salubrious Saturday: “Ain’t There Something That Money Can’t Buy,” Young-Holt Unlimited

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You remember when baseball stopped for a while because of contract disputes? Remember when your favorite player was traded, or when he left to make more money on another team? Here’s a song for that baseball player that plays for the love of the game. Hat’s off to them.

WALK-UP WEEK! Funk Friday: “Goliath,” Monophonics

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Before Game 6 of the 1991 World Series, Kirby Puckett, center-fielder for the Twins and my childhood idol, gathered his teammates around for a quick talk before they took the field.  “You guys should jump on my back tonight. I’m going to carry us.”  Puckett made good on his promise.  The Twins had been behind 3-2 to the Atlanta Braves before Game 6, during which Puckett hit the game-winning home run and made the best outfield catch, against the center-field wall, possibly ever seen in baseball.  (Puckett, who was a very stocky 5’8″, had incredible and surprising athleticism.  What was so jaw-dropping about that catch wasn’t just the air he got, but how powerful his arm was.  Look how far he throws that baseball!  He totally windmills his arm around to get that distance.  Just amazing.)  That game propelled the Twins to a World Series win.

I miss you, Kirby.  Whenever I hear “Goliath,” I think of you.

Number 34 on his jersey, number 1 in your heart.

Number 34 on his jersey, number 1 in your heart.

WALK-UP WEEK! Throwback Thursday: “The Great Gate at Kiev,” Modest Mussorgsky

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You’ve been playing baseball since you were 20.  This is your last season before you retire; your knees and shoulder can’t take any more punishment.  Your team has finally made it into the World Series.  Tonight is the deciding game.  The bases are loaded.  You’re up.  You put on your helmet and walk to the plate.  This is your song.

WALK-UP WEEK! Worldly Wednesday: “Dougou Badia (feat. Santigold),” Amadou and Mariam

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Of all the songs on Walk-Up Week, this would be my own personal song.  I’ve used this song to push me through long runs and long rows.  I see no reason why it wouldn’t pump me up enough to clock one out of the park.

WALK-UP WEEK! Termagant Tuesday: “Blues Walk,” Lou Donaldson

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There are a lot of different kinds of ballplayers.  There are the players who are just so amazed to be getting paid to follow their passion that they come across as happy all the time.  Then there are the ones who come across as spoiled little brats, who are more concerned with preserving their badass self-image than they are creating such an image through making consistent contact with the ball.  Bryce Harper, outfielder for the Washington Nationals, is such a player. Harper is good, don’t get me wrong.  But the man can throw a tantrum better than a four-year-old.  If he strikes out, he’s been known to throw his helmet on the ground and jump up and down.  Bless his little $900,000-a-year cotton socks.  “Blues Walk” is a raised-chin, eyes-narrowed, stare-you-down, “see if I care because I’m just that good” kind of a jazz song.  You do you, Harper.

WALK-UP WEEK! Modernism Monday: “Seventeen Years,” Ratatat

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Baseball is my favorite professional sport.  “Why,” I hear you reluctantly mutter?  Because it’s easy to understand and doesn’t have the homicidal undertones that football and hockey have.  I’m also the most familiar with it, having played Little League and collected baseball cards as a kid.

The other major reason I love baseball is the awesome modern addition of the walk-up song – aka, the song that plays when a batter steps up to the plate.  I’ve had the same conversation for years with friends and family about what the perfect walk-up song would be, but I hate having to pick one.

WAIT OMG I HAVE A BLOG NOW.  HAH.  Welcome to Walk-Up Week, Part 1: The Non-Ironic Version.  (Part 2 will take place in a few months after my Minnesota Twins have once again blown their chances at the Series, probably after losing, again, to the Tigers or the White Sox, and I think baseball is a hateful and idiotic sport with which I wish to have no association.)  We begin the week with “Seventeen Years,” by Ratatat.  This is a song for that batter with a consistent record of pasting the ball high over the left field wall, but, being a little older than most, is only brought out when his* skills are absolutely imperative.

*His.  It’s always his.  Oh well.

Sacred Sunday: “Crux Fidelis,” King Joao of Portugal

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My friend’s new wife being Portuguese, I feel this an appropriate choice for today.  Also, my headache is sponsored by vinho verde, a Portuguese white wine.  So, a calm, quiet little number is also in order.  Many thanks, your highness.