There is a seamless sameness about the life of a baseball fan.
He or she is not fazed by rumors of the approaching demise of
America’s Game, suggestions that its popularity has been surpassed
By that of football (a brutal sport with six minutes of action per
Encounter) or that it lacks the excitement of the perpetual motion
Of basketball or hockey or the flash of pro wrestling. (Where have
You gone, Gorgeous George?) It does lack the tedious and
Frustrating nature of a golf match. It has the beauty of grace and
Meaningful development, pitch by pitch, inning by inning. It is a
Game of rhythm and dance, a game of strategy and chance —
A seamless sameness that the fan of the National Pastime
Can enjoy and appreciate. There will never be a completed tie;
Rules and yardsticks change as time goes on but there is
History to the sport unmatched by any other, tracing back past
Abner Doubleday to its formation at the time of the nation’s birth.
And it would be safe to say that the first day a baseball game was
Played the sport tangentially gave birth to the ancestral fanatic whose
Descendants today may not engage in tailgating but whose
Appetites surpass those of their football cousins and their cuisine.
In a more civilized engagement, fans seamlessly (and sometimes
Aimlessly) pursue their gastronomic calling with vendor-delivered
Fair to the depth that baseball’s anthem’s lyrics refer to peanuts
And to Cracker Jack (which Katie Casey loved). Football and its
Don’t-blink season length, basketball and hockey with their sprint.
Seasons don’t compare to the gradual, tension-building, play-off
Rewarding season for drama and fulfillment, not to the true and
Dedicated sports fan who appreciates that artists can not ever
Be so rushed that the beauty of the game will be ignored for
Common expediency. No one told Da Vinci that his progress was
Too slow; no one put pressure on Frank Lloyd Wright to build it
Faster and make it less complex; No one screamed impatiently
At Mozart or Bach to skip some notes and shorten their haunting
Compositions. What they did was art, and so too is the creation
Of each baseball game, the layering of game upon game and
Series onto series until the most serious of Series is upon its
Fandom every autumn. The flow of the sport is both Ruthian
And Maysian. Its strengths are both power and grace. It is
A sport for all ages. It is seamless in its movement,
Uniting past, present and future in a melody that is
The same for its audience, and it is that seamless sameness
That makes baseball King, and the others, servants that must bow
And acknowledge that they, in the end, are simply not worthy of
Being viewed as in the same old league. When all has been
Considered, they are not Baseball. There is nothing more to say.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME