Anyone ever read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance?
The author goes to incredible lengths to try to define Quality. No way I could follow all of his contemplation, but I think his ultimate conclusion was that what doesn't work is simply trying to apply that description to a thing--e.g., that's a 'quality' painting or TV show or hamburger. Obviously, opinions will vary.
His idea was that 'quality' exists at the intersection of a master and his work. In other words, where quality lives is in the process of a finish carpenter shutting out the sense of time and place while hand making a dovetail joint--not in the drawer that uses that joint. (Stipulation: I could be remembering this ALL wrong.)
Anyway, this is where I imagine Edgar is when he's deeply working on someone's swing. Or where Cano is when he makes a play that no one else can.
And does this possibility really exist in any other sport? Other team sports don't allow it. There are too many people acting/reacting at the same time. But in baseball, the pitcher can achieve this kind of quality all by himself...until the point when he releases the ball. The batter or fielder can also accomplish the same thing, altbeit in a second or two at a time.
Collectively the denizens have been in a lot of basketball courts and football stadiums in our lives. But to echo Doc's observation, there's something different about a ballpark. More like a temple...or a shrine.
Maybe because subconsciously we know that 'quality' lives there?