baseball, the outfield, and utilitarian sex talk


Whilst attending the Braves game last Saturday (vs. the Brewers, or as FOE Billy dubbed it, “Old Milwaukee vs. Milwaukee’s Best”), something strange, pathetic, and awful happened:

Bottomadaninth, two outs, second baseman Kelly Johnson strides to the plate . . . and over the loudspeakers, what song doth blare? “Your Love” by the Outfield. You know: “I don’t wanna lose your love . . . to-niiiiii-iiiight/I just wanna use your love . . . to-niiiii-iiiight.”


Some players choose menacing metal intro songs: “Enter Sandman” for Trevor Hoffman, “Crazy Train” for Chipper Jones. Others choose something rhythmic and pounding from the current hip-hop canon.

But “Your Love” by the Outfield? Has anyone heard a worse walk-up song? Ever?

We were stunned—prevented from laughing only by the disbelieving pity constricting our throats. We rationalized what was happening: maybe it wasn’t Kelly Johnson’s chosen song. Maybe “Your Love” was only playing because it was the bottom of the ninth, and the Braves didn’t want to lose . . . to-niiiii-iiiight.

But no: next day, whilst watching another OM vs. MB tilt on telly, Kelly Johnson stepped back up to the plate in a non-do-or-die inning . . . and there it was again: “Your Love.” This is supposed to strike fear into the hearts of your opponents? Or else get them nodding and bobbing to some unstoppable beat that hopelessly throws off their in-game rhythm?

Worst walk-up song. Ever.

However, I would like to give credit to the Outfield for the blunt honesty of their lyrics. “I just wanna use your love . . . to-niiiii-iiiight?” How refreshing! You don’t hear many songs in which the band proclaims how much they desperately desire to make of their main squeeze nothing more than a vessel into which their “love” can be spilled. I really can’t think of another example of such plainspoken lyricism.

Some might posit “I Want Your Sex.” But observe the difference: the Outfield don’t simply want “your” sex—they want to use you. Like an electrical outlet. Or a sock monkey. Kudos, then, to the Outfield, for bringing a utilitarian matter-of-factness to pop music.

Enjoy the weekend. If possible, use your love to-niiiii-iiiight.


4 thoughts on “baseball, the outfield, and utilitarian sex talk”

  1. The most vexing part of this is that the player’s position isn’t even in the outfield. He’s a second baseman! He might as well have walked up to “The Gas Face” by 3rd Bass or John Fogerty’s “Centerfield”.

  2. you’re right. i suppose he might be bitter that there are no songs about 2nd basemen and is lashing out at the fans.

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