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Posted on 10/23/2001 5:27:13 PM PDT by X-Servative

Rising from the smoldering ashes of the World Trade Center and Pentagon, more Americans have turned to baseball’s playoffs this year than last, possibly searching for the simplicity of a game that has served to pass time for generations of Americans during some of the most trying times our Nation has known.

As a child I remember my grandfather sharing his stories of growing up in New York City during the depression. His experience of following baseball immortals like Ruth, Gherig and DiMaggio served to help a poor school kid find hope in something when that evening’s meal was anything but certain.

Then came World War II, when baseball stars were transformed into American heroes, trading in their baseball bats for rifles and a chance to save the world from tyranny.

As the years have passed and this magical game has found its image tainted by labor strife and increased competition from other sports, new generations of Americans have traded in their peaceful and perfectly simple pleasures for a fast paced, never-ending cycle of keeping up with the Joneses. A leisurely day at the ballpark has faded into a sunset that no one has time to see.

But since the events of September 11, Americans have taken a step back, reviewing their lives to see what they might have been missing in their never-ending search for the "new" American dream. Could the smell of fresh cut grass and worn leather bring Americans back to their innocence? Can the game adored by America’s "greatest generation" guide a new generation down a road paved with life’s lessons?

Over the past ten to fifteen years, baseball has been surpassed in popularity by football, an adrenaline pumping, testosterone filled one-day super event. Each Sunday, millions of Americans flag three hours out of their busy lives to follow their favorite team, which they don’t need to worry about again until the following week. It’s simple, and like many American’s now like their relationships, uncomplicated.

But unlike football, baseball is life; a daily ritual that requires the commitment of a dedicated fan to take time each day to analyze the box score, check out highlights, and if fortunate enough, sit down and watch a game. Like life, baseball is unpredictable and methodical, with no set time limit in which to cross the gauntlet.

This Fall, as America tries to rediscover the innocence that has given comfort to generations of Americans during the most trying of times, we can look to baseball’s autumn magic to find some of the answers for which we are searching.

Following the heroic efforts of firefighters, police officers and countless other Americans, it was quite appropriate that baseball launched the public’s first salvo at the "evil doers," ensuring our enemies that life in America would go on. Flags were unfurled and Americans emotionally proclaimed, "United we stand." For the first time in I don’t know how long, we were all Americans (prefixes need not apply), and that has been an enduring legacy of baseball for all these years. The game that broke the color barrier helped America realize that on the field, a player is a player, and in life, we are all Americans.

Now New York’s Yankees, who were all but eliminated by the high-flying and youthful Oakland A’s, have risen from the ashes like their New York brethren to once again challenge for the World Championship they have won for three consecutive years. A perennial favorite that had been written off as too old and uninspired, found a way to win. And now, a team that is usually "hated" outside of New York, is the sympathetic favorite to win, a symbol of our Nation’s resolve.

The classic baseball musical "Damn Yankees" has a memorable song that captured the synergy of spirit between baseball and America: "You’ve got heart, all you really need is heart; When the odds are saying you’ll never win, that’s when the grin should start."

America, the underdog that became the leader of the free world, has once again found the heart that has defined our nation for 225 years. Like America, baseball has long been the game where miracles can happen. Where else could an unknown kid from a mining town in Oklahoma rise up to become the toast of the town. Like America, baseball is a perfect game that is played by imperfect people who find ways to achieve impossible dreams.

As America became a more prominent world power, baseball’s simplicity and guaranteed opportunity have been traded in for rapid hits of pseudo-satisfaction. But out of the ashes of September 11, we can turn to the Fall Classic and once again get lost in America’s pastime, rediscovering that grin of hope that has defined the American experience.

So sometime between now and the final out of the World Series, take a few hours to sit down with those you hold dear and rediscover why baseball has been interwoven into the fabric of America for more than a hundred years.

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