There’s a unique terror in a first pitch.
Compare it to a puck drop, or a coin flip, or any other ceremonial act in which a celebrity might partake before a sporting event. Those are straightforward, routine tasks, almost more administrative than physical. They do not bear a direct resemblance to the action of their respective sports. But a first pitch? It’s not just a request to perform an athletic feat that most adults do not practice regularly or, in fact, ever. It’s a request to do that immediately before a group of people who are remarkably and professionally skilled at it.
Welcome, esteemed individual. Thank you for gracing us with your presence here tonight. Now enjoy this opportunity to embarrass yourself.
Most first pitches are not embarrassing, of course, because most first pitches are not memorable. But if a first pitch is even the slightest bit memorable? Outside of a few specific exceptions—like, say, a pitch thrown by the president in the shadow of a national tragedy—it will be remembered only if it is bad. The only way to make an impact here is to screw up. And there are so, so many ways to screw up. Spike it. Drop it. Yank it. Make the catcher dive for it. Make the catcher watch it, because there is simply no way he could possibly reach what you have thrown with any kind of realistic motion on his part. It’s a rich, inspired genre, full of potential humiliations.
That’s compounded by the fact that any bad first pitch is thrown in front of 1) a group of people who have paid to watch a baseball game and 2) a group of people who are paid to play baseball games. That’s a high-stakes audience! Which is what makes the first pitch so charming as an exercise. It takes guts. Even otherwise great athletes can be humbled by it. Take the first pitch lightly at your own risk: If it seems like literal child’s play, well, it doesn’t feel like it when you’re suddenly on a field run by adults. So many ceremonial acts for celebrities feel purely mechanical—sign this, unlock that, cut this ribbon. But the first pitch demands something more.
It’s a delight.
The sports world has spent months enraptured by the physical gifts of Victor Wembanyama. It feels almost silly to call him the “projected” No. 1 pick in the upcoming NBA Draft: Are we calling Friday the projected day after Thursday? Do we project the sky to remain blue? Wembanyama is described as a transcendental, generation-defining, franchise-altering talent. He graced the cover of this very magazine a few months ago. On Tuesday, he came to Yankee Stadium. Just the image of Wembanyama holding a baseball seemed incredible. In his grip, it looked doll-sized, just a toy. The picture underscored the rare wonder of his physique.
And then he threw a first pitch that looked like this:
Another awful first pitch for the collection pic.twitter.com/qYbH2vg49i
— Jomboy Media (@JomboyMedia) June 20, 2023
It was … memorable. Which, of course, is all you can really ask for in a first pitch.
