The hardest sport, a man with a stick vs a man with a stone.
Every spring the youth prepare for the season, it matters so very much until it's over...then it matters more when you can't join the young men as they get ready for the show.
There is magic in the Fastball, it's a weapon it's entertainment, it's so very rare.
We forget about the skill it takes and those that face it remember forever.
In life we fall in love, have romances that ignite the night...it is Baseball that measure the time.
We can look back and recall the events as they happened and the events of our lives in that same time.
"I Remember when...." is often what we hear in bars, clubs and even Church.
It can only be love that would make someone want to play a game, to make it a career is the greatest of romances.
Spending time to refine a skill that is fleeting at best, dedication, drive...love.
When I recall the days in LA, double headers were the best deal in town.
When I dream...sometimes I am there again, Hershiser on the mound.
The sun, food, atmosphere.
There is only the moment we exist in, everything else is either memory or speculation.
Baseball is that moment trapped in time for us to admire and remember.
When I see a great player retire or die, it's almost the same feeling as the 1st time your girl left you...as you watch her walk away, you wish it was different, it hurts forever.
But, just as with that youthful lover, a piece of your heart remains with them forever.
That is Baseball.
It marks our time like mile markers on the road.
Love. It never leaves you, it just changes as you grow and grow older.
So, when Baseball allows a team to cheat, gets caught, and keep the Championship.
It can mean divorce.
Cheating is cheating and a broken heart sometimes can never be mended.