This week, we welcome back the boys of summer, though for a few months yet, our summer’s dreams shall remain seedlings.
In doing so, the great American drama is once again reborn.
Whatever the sport is to you, baseball is America’s game. It is the game of our fathers (and mothers), and of their fathers (and mothers) as well. Baseball is where America has made its most public strides towards plurality (Jackie) and it is the setting for some of our worst racial vilification (among many others, Hank).
In acknowledgment of this new season, and in gratitude for this, our American tapestry, I share the following.
What you are about to read was written by Bart Giamatti. The former commissioner of baseball (and youngest ever president of Yale), Giamatti died of a heart attack little more than a week after facilitating the banishment of Pete Rose from baseball. It was probably the cigarettes, but more than one friend wonders if Bart didn’t die of a broken heart instead.
“The Green Fields of the Mind “
It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.