How to Musically Own Your Enemies
The best baseball walk-up songs are the most unexpected.
Last night at Yankee Stadium, my friends and I were picking out our walk-up songs. One selected “Lip Gloss” by Lil Mama, with a backup choice of “Weak” (the one by AJR, not by SWV she clarified). Another chose “End Game” by Taylor Swift, but just the echoey part where she goes, “Big reputation, big reputation, oooh,” otherwise the chorus of “Beer Never Broke My Heart” by Luke Combs. I had trouble settling on a track, finally opting for my hype-song of the moment, “Get Back” by Ludacris.
The phenomenon of the baseball walk-up song –– those 15ish seconds of pump-up music before an at-bat –– has long fascinated me. How does a player make that all-important choice: the sound that will announce his every effort at the plate? How does he land on something that captures his “vibe,” that finds him dripping in swag, and leaves a pitcher quaking in his cleats? How to do all this without seeming ridiculous –– without making a deeply uncool choice?
We’ve all experienced a version of that last worst case: being handed the AUX, making our song selection, only to find we’ve woefully misread the car or dorm room; that, to put it in TikTok speak, we’re not “valid”; that we cannot hang; that our tastes are insipid, pedestrian, humiliating! Like the time I played “Astronaut in the Ocean” for my 18-year-old brother, only to learn the song has been bludgeoned to death (labeled cringe) by an Internet culture of which I’m not a member.
It strikes me that there are a few ways to approach the most crucial musical decision in a baseball player’s life. You can, for instance, go the self-aggrandizing route of Aaron Judge, who has arguably earned the first verse of Pop Smoke’s “Hello,” where he declares himself the “King of New York.” You can also go for something more nostalgic, something that hearkens back to your roots. In a nod to his South Carolina origins, my mom’s favorite Yankee Brett Gardner (“He never phones it in!”) used “Huntin’, Fishin’ and Lovin’ Every Day” up until retirement. Alex Verdugo, who tied a career high in last night’s game, has maintained his father’s favorite song, “Volver, Volver,” since moving from Boston to New York.
Sometimes the most entertaining walk-up tracks are the wildcards. To no avail, I’ve scoured the Internet for the corny remix Triston Casas was using at Red Sox Games last summer –– still, his earnest appreciation for a “sick” beat drop was somehow endearing. I remember being surprised that Red Sox outfielder Jarren Duran had chosen Jagged Edge’s “Let’s Get Married,” specifically the part that goes, “Girl let’s just get married, I just wanna get married,” as if launching a romantic flare into the stands. (Duran’s nickname in his Instagram bio is “Big Swole” –– just something I thought I should share.)
I’m probably not the first to point out that walk-up music is one of the great parts of baseball. The snippets of repeated song form a ritualized chain: the sonic incarnation of a lineup. They work in beautiful contrast to the other sounds pumped into a stadium –– the cheating taunts hurled at Jose Altuve, the rumble of a passing 4 train, the world’s most vibrato-heavy rendition of “God Bless America.” It’s a delicious peek into a player’s inner world and into baseball dreams realized: the care and yet apparent carelessness behind this self-styling.