Playing a full season in the Majors
is the sporting world’s equivalent of
climbing Mount Everest with a four-
leaf clover instead of a Sherpa guide.
The goal cannot be seen at journey’s
start, but it is there, among the clouds.
The climbers fashion their equipment
to meet the coming challenge, give
definition to the team that will try so
hard to make its way up to the summit
before opposing teams can scratch
and claw their way. Each step will be
a hardship as heavy legs work their
way into condition, but with every
minor victory along the way, the
spirit of the team will shine, casting
light throughout the darkness of the
clouds that attempt to block the way.
Mood and spirit are co-joined in this
climb over jagged rock and bitter
frost, and the advantage goes to
the team that wants it most, the
group that has learned most from
past experience and has addressed
its weaknesses and needs. And when
the victors reach the summit and
plant their city’s flag into the history
of Time, they celebrate but for a
moment in the annals of the sport,
for come the morning and the end
of the descent into the common air,
they know it will be soon mirroring
an all too briefly successful Sisyphus – – –
time to climb the mountain once
again!
THE POETRY OF THE GAME