I’ve always thought of baseball as a sort of reflection of life:
There are winners and losers, stars and run-of-the-mill
Talents waiting to be discovered,
People who can handle the pressure and those who crumble
Under the spotlight of a full stadium, a big contract, too much dependence
Or too good a team. There are heroes and villains and the massive
Crowd of players come and gone, leaving a fading memory.
As with life, there are people willing to sacrifice or sometimes
Take advantage of opponents and steal from them or make them balk.
There are those who toe the line while others broadcast
Individuality … in the way they wear their hair or advertise
Their tastes in the colors of their cleats or the jewelry they choose to wear.
Life has its disappointments and its sudden fame … and so does the still
And always National Pastime, and it remains America’s game
Exactly because it is so slowly paced (despite constant attempts
To speed it up) for we so individual and proudly independent will not
Ever abide by outside sources rushing us: quality requires thought and
Planning and energy and an orchestration of the separate roles
To work in such a way that there is true fulfillment in the
Total experience. As they say, a baseball season (and a well-lived life)
Is a marathon and not a sprint, and every player’s goal reflects the dream
Of every one of us: to score, to win, to find our way to the only place
Worth all our efforts – to hit every base until, at last,
We find our way home and can relax in pride.