Why do baseball players call a fastball a "Linda Ronstadt"? Because she recorded the song "Blue Bayou," and, if you're a hapless batter, a sizzling fastball probably just "blew by you."

Why is a fastball that travels more slowly than expected called a "Peggy Lee"? Because she recorded the wistful ballad "Is That All There Is?"

Why is a batted ball that bounces off the outfield wall called a "Michael Jackson"? Because he recorded the 1979 album "Off the Wall."

These eponymous phrases are among the more than 10,000 baseball terms complied by veteran lexicographer Paul Dickson in the newly released third edition of "The Dickson Baseball Dictionary" (W. W. Norton, $49.95).

Always attuned to lore and language, Dickson ventures far beyond dugout expressions that have already dug out a place in common American speech — "pinch hitter," "batting a thousand," "out in left field," "step up to the plate," "touch all the bases."

His new edition adds fantasy baseball lingo ("Rotisserie League," from the now defunct New York City restaurant La Rotisserie Francaise, where it was conceived), terms from our current Moneyball era ("sabermetrics," the study and mathematical analysis of baseball statistics and records) and words recently introduced by Latin-American players ("lanzador," Spanish for "pitcher").

What's remarkable is how many legendary figures of past times are alive and well in the lingo of our "national pastime" (a term first used in 1856).

A "Michelangelo," for instance, is a superlative pitcher who can paint a masterpiece from the mound; a "Daniel Webster" is a player who, like the 19th-century orator, is skilled at arguing with opponents; a "Florence Nightingale" is a sacrifice hitter; a "Jesse James" is an umpire who robs players; and an "Al Capone" is a twin-killing — a double-play.

An "Annie Oakley" is a free pass to a baseball game because such tickets often had holes punched in them, like the playing cards perforated by the legendary sharpshooter.

Speaking of accuracy, a "William Tell" is an easily fielded bounding ball that bounces high enough to knock an apple off a fielder's head. A "Lady Godiva" is a pitch that has, well . . . nothing on it.

As a former first-baseman, I especially savor the eponymous phrase "ancient mariner," an inept infielder who, like the inquiring Ancient Mariner in Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem, "stoppeth one of three."

Rob Kyff, a teacher and writer in West Hartford, Conn., invites your language sightings. Send your reports of misuse and abuse, as well as examples of good writing, via e-mail to [email protected] or by regular mail to Rob Kyff, Creators Syndicate, 5777 W. Century Blvd., Suite 700, Los Angeles, CA 90045. To find out more about Rob Kyff and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.