QUINN MINUTE

Spitting

After reading my column on baseball, a Kentucky reader asked: “I have wondered for years (and especially the last two months) if we can ever overcome diseases with baseball players spitting all over creation every pitch of every game? “My wife -- a huge fan -- refuses to watch games with me anymore because between every pitch, guttural fluids will pollute the field. Will ballplayers be told to social distance their sputum as the new normal? Will spittoons be provided like rosin bags?” Well, I chewed on this question a long time. The baseball spitting tradition goes back to the 1800s. Players chewed tobacco to build saliva, and used that spit to keep their gloves moist on dusty fields. Tobacco chewing declined after players agreed in 2011 not to chew it in public. Today, players often chew and spit sunflower seeds or gum. Sunflower seeds are small, and don’t litter the field. As a kid, I envied spittle superstars. I paid special attention to how they gauged spit size, distance, and accuracy. I noticed how experts could stain an opponent’s uniform without soiling their own…or expectorate onto shoelaces from seven feet away. Spitball pitchers amazed me and made me realize I never wanted to be a catcher. For my own saliva stimulator, I chose a wad of gum, which often popped out of my mouth at inappropriate times. That made me recall a game when I raced around second base while heading for home plate. My gum popped out, fell beneath my shoe, and I literally got stuck on third base. I learned three things: (1) Never spit into your own path. (2) Never slide into saliva. (3) You’ve run out of luck if your foot gets stuck.

Customer service

I wanted to reorder a product last week, so I called the company’s toll-free phone number. A cheerful recorded voice wished me a good morning (it was afternoon), and told me how much she valued my call, my time, my loyalty, and my impressive humanness. She reminded me that it was spring, and that their company offered several items to not only enhance my life, but to improve my ordinary appearance. She asked for my 18-digit customer number. How should I know? I barely remember my address. So, she then connected me to the automated system. It first asked me to press numbers for my zip code, my street address, then for the day, month, and year of my birth. It next asked me to press 1 if I was a returning customer, 2 if I was a new customer, and 3 if I didn’t know what I was. The voice told me I was only two minutes away from my live contact. While waiting, I listened to unidentifiable musical notes. I did not know the song, but I quickly discovered I could not dance to it. Finally, a real person greeted me. I’m sure he was live, because I ask him if he was a robot, and he said no. “Please be aware that this call may be recorded for quality purposes,” he instructed. I told him the product I wanted, and he said, “That item has been discontinued. But we appreciate your business, and we invite you to call back next week.” But I will not…for quality purposes.