Chris Berman Poses Geographical Conundrum
In the first round of the Home Run Derby yesterday, Mark Trumbo hit a home run. As the ball passed along its quietly majestic arc, Chris Berman was heard to remark that the ball was “on its way to Wichita”. On the surface it may have seemed that Berman uttered this insight because Wichita is quite far away from Kansas City, and that the ball that had just been hit had also traveled very far. Digging deeper, however, we see the roots of a paradox worthy of Zeno.
Provided at this point in the article, for contextual purposes, is a map containing both the cities of Kansas City, MO and Wichita, KS:
Furthermore, also via Google Maps, a satellite picture of Kauffman stadium in Kansas City:
Having pieced these facts together we can begin to see the complexity that was Mr. Trumbo’s momentous dinger; that, while facing roughly northeast, our hero managed to hit a home run in the direction of a municipality almost directly behind him. Such a thing might be impossible for an average man, but remember that we are dealing with the elite; today we speak of All-Stars.
Berman was, of course, not entirely correct in his statement; in the heat of announcing, he had miscalculated his coordinates and confused the orientation of the left field foul pole with straightaway centerfield. We can now, with the benefits of science, safely assume that Trumbo’s home run was on its way to Minneapolis or, if it were to continue its slice, the general vicinity of Winnipeg. But if we take the announcer at his word, and assume that he meant “toward” Wichita and not exactly “to” it, we have to take into account a new model:
In this case Mark Trumbo’s home run did not travel 420 feet, as was previously thought, but instead flew upwards of 130,542,720 feet (based on a calculation of 24,901 miles for the earth’s circumference, minus the 177 miles from Wichita to Kansas City). This is, however, the upper end of the spectrum, and assumes that the ball reached its midwestern target. If our only requirement is that the ball reach a point where it began moving toward Wichita, rather than away from it, the ball would need only to travel past the direct opposite side of the earth: in this case a lovely patch of ocean about a thousand miles off the coast of Perth. Thus we can conclude that the minimum distance of Trumbo’s home run would only be 65,271,361 feet, obviously still a new Home Run Derby record.
This may seem impressive – and I beg you, dear readers, to restrain your cynicism! – but we must remember that the ball Trumbo hit still exists in its current form, albeit in a revised location. Many of the other balls hit during the Home Run Derby, once they reached the stands, were simply referred to as “gone”, having as one must assume vaporized or incinerated as they reached the crowd. This is why the Home Run Derby is exciting! And dangerous.
Chris Berman is an idiot, this only further solidifies that statement!
Yeah, this was the final piece…right….
Goerge Brett corrected him when he said this again later on.
I know! It upset me that he basically stole my joke 17 hours in advance. I forgive him, though, because he talked about defecating in his trousers on live television.
By virtue of this chart, though, Wichita is directly, “Back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back Back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back Back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back back,” of Kansas city.
I’m hopeful that, someday, we will witness a derby not called by the Cadbury Bunny.
Nice. Even my wife remarked, “Double Taper!”
I was going to mention the same. I was hoping that was going to be the story. I didn’t realize Berman did it more than once. Brett smoked him when Berman sent one to Omaha.
And the way Berman “pretended” to be upset with Brett for having the gall to correct a pompous windbag was absolutely priceless.
65,271,361 feet – that’s one long dongpiece.
That’s what she said.
Articles like this cover the things I think about writing about if I didn’t have to work in human resources. I wish I had the time to write this exact article; unfortunately I cannot because I have to put food in my dog’s bowl, but I’m glad someone is able to put it out there.
+5,000 snark points
You have leveled up to Sultan of Snark
That BP pitcher certainly has a look like it traveled 65,271,361 feet.
now if only if you had calculated how long it would take a batted ball to circle the globe and land through someone’s windshield in Wichita.
I was praying he would say “he strokes his dong to wichita”
Don’t come crying to me when you end up naked and jacking it in San Diego.
Operation Trumbo Drop.
This piece is most satisfying. I felt justifiably snarky for setting my status to “Watching the Chris Berman Regional Geography Bee” during the derby, but this is certainly taking it to another level.
However, I have an alternate theory. I believe Chris Berman is taking part in a Battleship-like game live on air during the derby. Earlier in the day, Karl Ravech places his fleet in various cities within a 300-mile radius of the stadium. Berman sits in front of a big map with red and white push pins, then attempts to sink Ravech’s proverbial ships by naming cities in his call. Unfortunately, Ravech cheats, and he moved his submarine over to El Dorado as soon as Berman called Wichita.
As a resident of the city of Omaha, I was just impressed that Berman knew the city existed. Never mind that the ball he said was headed to Omaha was, as Brett explained, actually heading in the general direction of “East” toward “Saint Louis” instead of “North” toward “Omaha.” He knew my city’s name!
A paradox is something that contradicts or exceeds common understanding. Few Americans have any understanding of where Wichita is, so that call was no paradox on it’s face. But you, Mr. Dubuque, your cunning runs deep: all baseball fans know Chris Berman is a windy gas bag in love with leather, and yet ESPN gives him the microphone.
You’re with me, leather.
FIRST! Yes…..
No you’re not.