The Penn Law Review recently published a new take on the academic discussion of baseball’s infield fly rule (h/t Howard Wasserman, at Prawfs). Titled “A Step Aside: Time to Drop the Infield Fly Rule and End a Common Law Anomaly,” the article, written by federal district judge Andrew Guilford and his clerk Joel Mallord, employs the common but still amusing convention of providing multiple footnotes in a single sentence – sometimes following every word – with a corresponding parallel discussion in the subtext. The article is quite engaging and the notes themselves are mostly entertaining and informative. There is one note, however, to which I must take strong exception.
The article begins with an imaginary World Series game, in fact the seventh, between the Chicago Cubs and the Seattle Mariners. Played at Wrigley Field, the game has reached the bottom of the ninth inning, with the Mariners leading 1-0. The Cubs, however, have loaded the bases with only one out. Then,
From the hopeful Chicago crowd there rises a lusty yell, for the team’s star batter is advancing to the bat.
And that is where the authors lost me. Footnote 6 follows the word “yell,” and leads us to the following:
See Ernest L. Thayer, Casey at the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic Sung in the Year 1888, DAILY EXAMINER, June 3, 1888, at 4 (describing mighty Casey’s epic strikeout and using the word “lusty” in a nineteenth century way).
Let me venture that no literate baseball fan – and face it, who else would be reading this article? – would fail to recognize “lusty yell” as a reference to “Casey at the Bat.” Left unexplicated, the phrase would have operated as an affectionate homage to an American classic. The footnote, however, demotes it from a sly tribute to just another citation. Instead of smiling in approval at the subtle wording, the knowledgeable reader now simply wonders why the footnote wasn’t dropped after “advancing to the bat,” which is likewise a line from Thayer’s poem. (See what I did there? I showed off my erudition by adding an explicit reference. Unnecessary, wasn’t it? Well, that’s the point. These things are more effective when left unspoken.)
As E.B. White said of jokes, explaining an allusion is like dissecting a frog. You understand it better, but it dies in the process.
That said, the article is well worth reading for those who enjoy that sort of thing (as I do), and so is Howard’s reply in the Penn Law Review Online.
UPDATE: Judge Guilford's reply: "On instant replay, you've convinced me that we made a bad call. (But I hate instant replay.)"
I love this: a footnote to a footnote!
Posted by: Enrique Guerra Pujol | March 24, 2016 at 11:17 AM