“For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.”
–Ecclesiastes 3:1
Baseball is still just like heaven.
In Field of Dreams, “Shoeless” Joe Jackson’s character mistakes an Iowa cornfield for it. And much like in Iowa, the people in Illinois are just as fanatical, showing up in sellout crowds for every home game at Wrigley Field, rooting for their Chicago Cubs at a timeless ballpark under a blue, cloudless sky for another day game in which all they see is the sun shining down on their precious ivy-covered outfield wall, even though the dark clouds of a 100-year old curse loom low over the stadium.
In Philadelphia, fans boo. In L.A., they show up late enough to see the bottom of the third inning, only to leave early in the top of the seventh to beat the traffic.
No matter how baseball fans choose to show it, how they cheer or jeer, they will be there by the masses—except in South Florida, despite two championships in a seven year span for a fifteen-year old franchise—because of what this game means to them, their team, and their city.
Okay, let me address the obvious:
Yes, I realize steroids were discovered in a few lockers. Yes, I also noticed that Barry Bonds suddenly seemed to gain a few pounds. Correct, I heard that the new best-selling author was actually a U.S. Senator. And just like you, I witnessed Roger Clemens’ career take the fastest decline since M.C. Hammer.
To be honest, how could I miss it?
The newspaper didn’t let me. The Internet wouldn’t allow me to surf around it. And ESPN did happen to mention it quite a few times in vivid detail, including expert analysis and a picture of a beer can.
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