There is a whole generation of Baltimoreans who have grown up without knowing that, somewhere deep in its DNA, this is a baseball town. The Ravens, yes; the Colts, certainly — they occupy a big chunk of the municipal imagination. But for so long, there were Brooks, Frank, Eddie, Palmer, Cal and Earl, with Wild Bill in the stands on 33rd Street. The Oriole Way was the Baltimore Way: Show up, do your job. Not flashy, just good, year in and year out.