I love baseball. Always have. Probably always will. To me it’s the quintessential American sport. No other game brings out the simplicity and innocence of youth like baseball does.

Baseball is a game for boys. Passed on from generation to generation, from father to son. It’s the one activity where fathers and sons who have nothing in common can spend quality time together, throwing a ball back and forth, back and forth, for hours at a time.

The movie “Field of Dreams,” illustrated this better than I ever could:

Baseball is like poetry. Football, basketball, hockey, soccer. None of these games has quite the familial and poetic quality that baseball does.

It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.

~A. Bartlett Giamatti, “The Green Fields of the Mind,” Yale Alumni Magazine, November 1977

As a life-long Cincinnati Reds fan, I have a huge aversion to former MLB commissioner Bart Giamatti for banning Pete Rose from baseball, but his stanza above sums up the game better than anything I’ve ever read.

“The beautiful game” is a term soccer has used over the past several years to describe their sport. But to me, baseball will always be the beautiful game.



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