Why baseball is best on the radio
The Mets second baseman's error is no one’s favorite moment of the World Series. Well, almost no one's.
Chicago preachers are wary: we see the potential loss of great sermon material if the Cubs should start winning.
The Cubs and White Sox have some of the worst records in the league. Yet Chicago still went a little crazy over baseball this summer.
A runner is stranded on base, in a far country, unable to get home on his own. The batter bunts, aiming to obey the manager.
Let me get this straight: Ryan Braun gets paid north of $20 million a year to be the aw-shucks kid turned Joe DiMaggio, the face of the Milwaukee Brewers, and the great white hope of a metro area that has never come to terms with its racial diversity. And we're supposed to be shocked and angry that he acts like a spoiled celebrity?
Baseball continues to receive elegiac tributes. John Sexton's latest joins company with the works of some impressive lovers of the game.
The Cubs last won the World Series in 1908. I have learned to comfort myself with Christian verities such as steadfastness and hope.
When I was ten, baseball became the organizing principle of my life. The game taught me that success is rare and precious.
Moneyball has a slick, entertaining script by two pros, Aaron Sorkin and Steve Zaillian, and it's briskly directed by Bennett Miller.
In fifth grade my Little League baseball team lost its first five games. Our coach quit. We got a new coach, a 16-year-old named Don Crosby. Don was a great player and should have been on the high school team, but he hadn’t passed enough classes to be eligible. Today he’d probably be diagnosed as having a learning disability, but back then he was just plain out of luck. Don was only four or five years older than we were, but he easily established his authority with us. He made us run lots of laps around the swing set at the far end of the school yard. He told us we were not to talk when he was talking, and when we answered him, we were to say “Yes sir” and “No sir.”