The next time you see someone keeping a scorecard at a baseball game, you must understand something.

While you're merely watching the game, they're immersed in the game.

Those of us who keep book may look like we've been bitten by the OC bug, but that's not it at all. We just prefer baseball at a deeper level than those who are happy to just experience the event.

When I'm preoccupied with things around the house, I can be perfectly happy half-listening to a Twins game on the radio. (TVis not an option here. Baseball has never been a TV game, never will be).

Put me in a seat in a ballpark, though, and I need a scoresheet. Having those rows of squares in front of me keeps my mind from drifting.

When I'm working, it's full-bore scorekeeping: Balls, strikes, pitch count, scoresheet. Put me in the ballpark for the fun of it, and the scorecard is pretty basic, even though my nature dictates I must account for all the RBIs.

It seems that keeping book at the ballpark is a dying art. You don't see fans inscribing their backwardsKs and double plays much anymore. In fact, I've even seen some of my fellow denizens of the press box using some sort of shorthand play-by-play instead of keeping a scorecard. Brrrrrrrrrrrr. Its' enough to make a strong man shudder.

When I'm keeping book - be it in a meticulous or leisurely manner -I've had people ask me about the game. "What's his pitch count?" "How many hits has he had?" "What's his strikeout total?"

It's fun to have that information available when asked. It kind of makes you feel like a pint-sized baseball guru.

But here's the secret. You can be your own scorecard-keeping guru with little effort. The only hard thing about it is taking the plunge.

I was sold out, body and soul, to baseball when I was a kid, and it seemed to me scorekeeping was a skill that logically went with being a fan.

My dad didn't keep book, so I ordered a booklet on scorekeeping from The Sporting News - it cost two bits, I think - and dived right in. Lo and behold, my dad was right behind me.

We started simply. That's the only way to go. Don't bite off more than you can chew because you'll just get frustrated and give up. Start with a really basic scoresheet. I'd recommend you not even worry about RBIs at the outset.

As time goes by, you'll naturally increase the amount of detail, but never, never, never get to the point where your scorecard becomes a chore. It's there to serve you, not vice versa.

Another important bit of advice: There is no right or wrong way to keep book. Find a method that serves your purposes. Heck, if using "F" for a fly ball, "G" for a ground out and "P" for a pop fly suits your purpose, no one has any business trying to correct you.

About the only thing that's not negotiable is the position numbers. They're so ingrained in baseball's culture, that even fans who would never dream of keeping a scorecard know of a 6-4-3 double play.

Here we go: 1, pitcher. 2, catcher. 3, first base. 4, second base. 5, third base. 6, shortstop. 7, left field. 8, center field. 9, right field. Scoresheets are no problem. Any sporting goods store has them. If you want to download them, locate a style you like and you're in business.

Personally, I'm sold on the old Prairie League official scoresheet. It's far and away the best I've ever found. Even so, I've had to tinker with it a little bit. Like most confirmed bookkeepers, I'm always adding or changing something.

Once you begin keeping a scoresheet, you can always find help. I can't imagine anyone who keeps book being unwilling to help a neophyte.

If you go slowly and let your scorekeeping system grow along with your interest in the game, there's a good chance you, too will become hooked.

Once you do, you'll discover baseball at a new level. And once you're done, you can take the game home with you.

As I was writing this column, I pulled out one of the few scoresheets I've hung on to. It tells the tale, pitch by pitch, of Kerry Ligtenberg's no-hitter against the Dakota Rattlers, the first and likely the only no-hitter in Prairie League history.

Ligtenberg's team, the Minneapolis Loons, arrived late at Municipal Ballpark, so the game started 10 minutes late at 7:15. The game was low-scoring, 2-0, so took only 2:29 to play.

Ligtenberg fanned 15 batters, all but two swinging, and required 134 pitches, 86 of them strikes. He whiffed Rattlers cleanup man Boo Moore three times, all swinging. He used only 11 pitches on Moore, just two of them balls.

That's the beauty of keeping a scorecard. It not only keeps you in the game at the ballpark, but it's a bit of history to take home. When you pull out an old scoresheet, tons of details come rushing back.

It's obvious I'm sold on keeping book, and I'd encourage anyone who attends, watches or listens to ballgames regularly to try it. You'll discover scorekeeping is its own reward.

Just don't fall prey to a shortcoming of one scorekeeper who was too busy visiting to maintain focus on the field. "What does NL mean," she was asked as a friend glanced at her scorecard. Not looking."

(Steve Thomas is a Tribune sportswriter).