Geeking the Game
But at home, headphones on, lost in a 1957 Dodgers broadcast?
I don’t keep score every game. Not even close. But when the mood hits usually when I’m listening to an old broadcast I found online. I reach for my pencil bag. It’s got everything I need, a couple of pencils, an eraser, a sharpener, and my Bob Carpenter scorebook. I put in my AirPods, cue up the game, and write out the lineup.
It settles my mind.
There’s something about doing it by ear that brings a different kind of focus. I’m not watching anything. I’m not checking an app. Just listening, pitch by pitch, tracking the rhythm of the game by what the announcer gives me. And somehow, I see it more clearly.
I never kept score at the park. Too much happening around me plus I usually am taking pictures, with people moving, vendors yelling, kids kicking the seat. I can’t lock in. But at home, headphones on, lost in a 1957 Dodgers broadcast? That’s when the game opens up.
I loved doing it as a kid, sitting there trying to keep up with the play-by-play. And as an adult, it’s something I’ve come back to. Not as a habit, but as a way to slow down. To reset. It brings me into the game in a way that nothing else really does.
My girlfriend smiles when she sees me doing it. Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t need to. She knows it’s how I slow down and calm my mind from the day-to-day stress of a long week. That smile, quiet and knowing, is part of the ritual now too. She is a meditator and really pushes me to calm my mind.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about making my own scorebook. I love the one I use, but I want more space. A cleaner layout and a handmade leather cover that feels like it belongs in my world. I’ll include a Baseball Buddha meditation on each page. Just a simple line. Something to reflect on between innings. Like a fucking Buddha… (I love the f-bomb since I was a kid, it is honest to who I am and how I think…)
Because for me, keeping score isn’t about data. It’s about being present. It’s about noticing the shift in a pitcher’s tempo. It’s about catching that moment when the game quietly turns. It’s about paying attention. And letting the game… Breathe…
Some people geek out on launch angle and WAR. I geek the game like this pencil in hand, radio in my ears, writing it down before the box score does.
Not every game. Just the ones that call for it.




I make my own scorecards and they're usually kind of ratty looking. I find them in notebooks and other various places. I agree that it's relaxing.
I’ve got a Bob Carpenter too, but miss the spaces for keeping track of balls and strikes