("A Baseball Golden Age")
Baseball is a game that
survives and thrives despite logical dictates to the contrary. It
appears to be far too slow, far too expensive to attend, and still far
too littered with the memories and remnants of an era of a drug induced
uneven playing field.
It can be overrun by statistics (a recent article spoke
of announcers having to at least be semi-fluent in geek speak) and its
season extends as far as the eye can see.
But it has a
rhythm and a flow that no other sport can duplicate. It has the smell
and feel of a new leather mitt, a deep attachment of parent with child
and the sense that the world is not moving by too quickly. Its debates
on whether the artificially enhanced belong in the Hall, on the cold
reality of VORP and WARP battling the artistry which numbers don't
reveal, and even whether to expand the post season universe, are all
integral parts of an afternoon or evening at the ballpark. It allows
time for conversation, contemplation and connection.
Baseball is a marathon taken one beautiful step at a
time, and whether it is now in a "golden age", with greater parity,
grander shrines, and larger gross revenues, is almost irrelevant. This
sport is and will forever be more, much more than brick and mortar,
dollars and cents.
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