by Andrew Wiesner
To Andy–
Baseball is a jewel of many facets. It is the innocence and emerging skills of a Cub Scout softballer. It is the cavorting delight of a pick-me-up neighborhood sandlot game. It is the semi-comic adult intensity surrounding a Little League contest, and the sub-conscious adult affectations of the Little Leaguers.
It is the hopes and expectations on Opening Day of an otherwise amorphous horde, unified and partially civilized by their allegiance to a common dream.
It is the bitter-sweet experience of attendance at a late September game of two teams who are by then running not in a pennant sprint, but only out the season’s clock.
It is a harmony of mind and body–like ballet–except that baseball’s skills are forged and honed in a furnace which demands not only grace, but victory, and in view of millions.
It is something which enraptures even as it saddens.
It is something which uplifts even as it frustrates.
It is subjective, and yet it is honest.
It is something we have shared, and I am grateful.
–Dad