Pitchers and Poets: Townes Van Zandt & Baseball

Eric: January 1 marked the fifteen year anniversary of the death of Townes Van Zandt. That’s not a question, but it’s a starting point. What does that have to do with baseball in 2012?

Ted: When I think of Townes Van Zandt, I think of self-destructive genius. There’s a video of him nearer to his death, and he doesn’t have the energy to act the crazy genius anymore. He’s just a guy who’s made some bad choices. Baseball players don’t get to choose, though. They’ll wash out by 40 no matter what they do. They won’t die, of course. I don’t suppose you’d hear a Townes Van Zandt song at a baseball game. Or would you?

Eric: The day I hear “Waitin’ Around to Die” at a ballpark is the day I grab the shoulder of the person sitting next to me and exclaim wildly “Can you believe they’re playing Townes Van Zandt at the ballpark?” I actually see a pretty strong connection between Townes and the forever struggling ballplayer trying to make it in the show, unable to quit the dream despite being fully aware of his own imminent physical or mental destruction. Have you seen Be Here to Love Me? It’s a documentary about him and really gets at the fact that he basically sacrificed everything — love, his children, his own happiness — to be a troubadour in the truest sense. Would it be insane to compare Townes to the archetype of the career minor leaguer?

Ted: I may have seen that movie. I saw a movie but I don’t recall the title, I only recall a series of unrelated images of farm houses and long-haired beautiful women. Were career minor leaguers surrounded by beautiful, long-haired women who stared at their faces as though they had the answer? A song—like an Ichiro single to the opposite field—hints at an answer. But when it comes down to it, a song is just an echo, and a single is just a hit. Show me a hit single, though, and we’re in business. Townes seemed to exist outside of the business, or at least he presented himself thusly. It’s the middle of the offseason, and I feel cynical. Is there any ballplayer who can claim a divorce from the business?

Eric: I think many people would be happy if Rafael Palmeiro was divorced from the business, and I’m certain that many ballplayers can claim to be divorced (zing), but I think the business catches up to everybody. In the end, it may have been the business that killed Townes Van Zandt. Had he been able to spend his life hanging out on a ranch with those beautiful long-haired women (of whom there are many in minor league baseball pictures such as Bull Durham and Summer Catch) strumming sweet sad melodies and living for today, Townes Van Zandt might not have died early and forlorn. Then again maybe Nashville had nothing to do with it. Maybe Townes was fated to die young on New Year’s Day. Hank Williams died on New Year’s Day too. Maybe ballplayers are fated to blow out their knees and elbows, invest their earnings badly, and open car washes. Mysteries of the universe, you know?

Ted: The Business Catches Up to Everybody. That should be a song.

Eric Nusbaum and Ted Walker run Pitchers & Poets, a deep space vessel custom-built to explore the farthest corners of the baseball multiverse.

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