In ‘‘The Slump,’’ John Updike uses the national pastime, baseball, as the setting to explore one individual’s frustration with the world. The story is told by a professional ballplayer who finds himself, for no identifiable reason, unable to hit as well as he once did. He thinks about why this might be, but not very deeply; for the most part, he accepts this slump as his fate and considers what it says about life in general. The story depicts the superstitious nature of athletes in the way that its narrator hopes for better days without having any hope that anything he can do would make his luck return.
Readers can see in ‘‘The Slump’’ the raw talent that has made Updike one of America’s most respected writers for over a half century. The story is meticulously detailed, with sharp observations of even the most seemingly irrelevant actions, raising them to the level of importance. It achieves a philosophical depth that most stories only aspire to. It is, however, very unlike most of Updike’s fiction. A typical Updike story plays out in relationships, examining the social expectations that surround most couples. In ‘‘The Slump,’’ however, the narrator’s relationship with his wife is described, but it is not an integral part of the story. Updike is a master at showing human interaction, and here he shows that he can be just as effective when writing an extended monologue.
‘‘The Slump’’ was originally published in Esquire in 1968. It is currently available in the author’s 1972 collection, Museums & Women, and is frequently reprinted in anthologies.
When ‘‘The Slump’’ begins, its narrator, a professional baseball player, has already been experiencing trouble with his hitting. The opening line goes right past the subject of a batting slump, leaving readers to understand the subject matter from the story’s title, and starts immediately with guesses about what might be causing the problem. The first topic that the narrator suggests is ‘‘reflexes,’’ which his coach and the press assume to be causing his problem. He explains that he does not think it is caused by reflexes, though. As evidence for why he discounts this theory, he explains that the night before his wife surprised him in their bedroom with a rubber gorilla mask and he jumped under the bed in less than a second—she had a stopwatch ready and timed his reaction.
He remembers how easy it used to be for him to hit before falling into this slump, how the pitched ball seemed to float in the air before his eyes so that he could see every detail about it clearly. Now, though, the ball is obscured in a cloud, a ‘‘spiral of vagueness.’’ He paraphrases the Danish philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard, as saying that ‘‘You can’t see a blind spot.’’ Aware that his hitting is his strong point as a ballplayer, he reflects on the likelihood, which he has already seen reported in a newspaper, that his team will try to trade him.
One good thing about being unable to hit is that he feels less pressure. He recalls how he used to leave home for the stadium and as he drew closer and closer, he could feel the butterflies in his stomach growing. He thought of himself as a thief, and walking through the corridors to the locker room, he imagined that he was being taken to the electric chair. It seemed like a dream, then, that players he had looked up to all his life recognized him. The whole experience of being on the team had been so amazing to him that he was constantly nervous—‘‘by the time I got into the cage, I couldn’t remember if I batted left or right.’’
Since the slump, however, the pre-game nervousness is gone. He drives to the stadium singing...
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