The Theory of Games Read Online Free Page B

“I’m going to show my friend around the old ball yard; you guys keep an eye on Bill for me?” Andy and Colt nodded and smiled conspiratorially. “And no more than one hotdog per inning, okay? And I’m going to count the wrappers when I get back.”
    Kate and I climbed up the third-base bleachers until we got to the top row and I motioned for Kate to turn around. The Mississippi, dark and vast, curled around the outfield fences and flowed to the horizons in both directions. Below us Andy’s field was an immaculate carpet; the players were in a circle performing the ancient ritual of pre-game calisthenics.
    “My God, Jake! What a view!” In the distance a tug pushing a dozen barges downriver started to make the sharp turn to skirt Dynamite Island.
    I looked up and pointed to the luxury suites blocking out most of the Midwestern sky. “Yeah, well now the rich folks get the best view.”
    “Jake, did you really say that luxury suites were the cause of the collapse of American society?”
    “A contributing factor; I meant to say that they were a contributing factor. And don’t forget the designated hitter rule. That didn’t help, either. They are the first steps down that slippery slope to the end of civilization as we know it.”
    Kate laughed and sat on the top bleacher. “What are you going to do now?” she asked. “No job, no money.”
    “Bill and I will get by; we always do. We’ve been worse off,” though, in truth, I couldn’t think of a worse time in my life. “I’ll send out some resumes, kick some rocks, something will crawl out eventually; it always does.”
    The wind picked up from off the river and lifted the dark curls from Katelynn’s face. “Tell me about baseball,” she said.
    “Well, I guess I’m old school,” I said, “I love the symmetry of the game, the mathematics and the statistics. I played as a kid, of course, but I knew I didn’t have the talent to make a career of it. I never could hit that breaking ball. That didn’t bother me. I would rather sit up here,” with you , I thought, “and enjoy the game. You know, originally my dissertation was supposed to be about designing an artificial intelligence to manage a baseball team.” I laughed. “Gilfoyle wouldn’t approve it. He wanted me to do the wargame stuff.”
    Kate turned towards me and her face glowed in the warm sunlight. “Why would he do that?” she asked.
    “There’s Defense Department money in wargame research. I don’t think the National League is concerned about finding a computer replacement for Tony La Russa just yet,” I answered. “You know there’s a theoretically perfect way to arrange the nine man batting order that would maximize a team’s hits. Every man that gets on base is a potential run and every man that’s left on base at the end of an inning is a lost opportunity. It’s an interesting game theory problem. The number of possible lineups for a nine man team is nine factorial; you know 9 times 8 times 7 times 6 times 5 times 4 times 3 times 2 times 1.”
    Kate fixed her gaze on the tug disappearing behind Dynamite Island. “362,880.”
    “What?”
    “There are 362,880 possible lineups for a baseball team,” Kate said.
    I was floored. “Did you just figure that out?”
    “Uh huh.”
    “In your head? That’s incredible!”
    Kate just smiled sweetly.
    The wind shifted again, blowing down the right field line. It would be a lefty’s day at the ballpark. Katelynn bought peanuts from Leonard, the toothless vendor, so ancient it seemed like Weissman Stadium was built up around him back in ’31. We drank a couple of beers. I taught Kate the arcane glyphs and symbols used to record every play in a baseball game. It was a wonderful day. We lost 4-3.
    We held hands and walked back down the bleacher steps to the bullpen. There were a pile of shiny hotdog wrappers and empty plastic beer cups surrounding Andy, Bill and Colt. “The fifth inning went long,” Andy began. “And with all