Format the following passage properly, for storytelling purposes. Keep it as written, don't change a single word, but improve grammar where necessary.

And then there was one. My desire to finalize a collection of five sports games turned into a desire to give a single offering my (nearly) undivided attention. And against all odds, I settled on a game that has been all but completely forgotten in today's digital landscape: the brilliant "Tony La Russa Baseball" for the Sega Genesis. At a first glance, it may not seem like the sort of title that could realistically become someone's 'one and only.' The animation is not as smooth as what you will find in some other Genesis baseball games, the colors are a bit washed-out (at times looking more like a Master System game), and the music and sound effects were never going to win any awards for design. Having tried it once, I was shocked at how primitive it felt, given the power of the 16-bit hardware it was running on. But over the last few days, I have given it another chance, and my willingness to try again was rewarded with one of the most impressive simulation games of the 16-bit era, and quite arguably one of the greatest of all time. Though the game did not have an official MLB license, they were able to secure the MLBPA license, meaning hundreds of real-life players--with accurate stats--are available for you to use. The field view is the best I have ever seen in a 16-bit baseball game, and gives you a full look at the action. You never have to worry about awkward camera angle changes. Aside from a close-up screen which gives you a clearer view of the pitcher throwing the ball to you (which can be turned off in the options), you can see nearly the entire field at nearly all times. Weather conditions play a shockingly crucial role in terms of a team's odds of victory or defeat. A team that is dominant on grass or in a domed stadium may struggle to get wins on an astroturf field. When an error is committed, a sound will alert you to the fact. There is a decent rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" that plays on the title screen, and decent enough organ music that plays in crucial situations. Again, the music was never going to win any sort of award, but it is not grating on the ears like some other Genesis games. It is simple, gets the job done, and puts you in the right mood for baseball. There are many games where the developers focused more on making everything look and sound good, but managed to get the fundamentals of a given sport wrong. On the other hand, "Tony La Russa Baseball" does not have mind-blowing visuals and sound design, but gets the fundamentals of baseball right better than almost any other Genesis game, save for the sequel "La Russa Baseball '95" and the World Series Baseball games. Which brings me to perhaps the biggest saving grace of the game: its pacing. This game managed to do something that realistically should have never been possible. It is a simulation-based game with an attention to detail that was nearly unrivaled in its day; it took until the PS2/Xbox/GameCube era before the majority of baseball games had caught up to what the devs of this game pulled off in the early 1990s. And yet, it does not chug along at a slow pace. There is a reason why most baseball games went for a more arcade-style feel: real baseball is a sport like no other. It is arguably the greatest sport of them all. One of the things that makes baseball so unique is that there is no time limit. A pitcher and batter can stand around for as long as they like, until one of them is inclined to make a move. A game is guaranteed to go into the ninth inning. There is no twelfth round in which to dance around and kill off the remaining seconds, to preserve a well-earned decision on the judges' scorecards. There is no taking a knee, no dribbling out the clock, no skating around with the puck. There is no way to 'ice' the game. In baseball, a team could be leading by ten runs at the top of the ninth. They must still continue to play the game. They have to pitch, and they have to play defense. Only when the final out is made is the game finally over. Because baseball has no clock, a team that is willing to fight always has a chance to come back and win. Baseball, by the nature of how the game was designed, allows for and historically has seen more spectacular comeback wins than any other sport. As it is theoretically possible for a baseball game to last indefinitely, it is the one sport that has befuddled more video game developers than any other. Some games, like the "World Series Baseball" titles, are absolutely brilliant, and yet one inning can feel like it has lasted for an eternity. Other games, like the R.B.I. Baseball series, have better pacing but miss out on the finer points of the sport, sacrificing certain simulation elements for a more enjoyable arcade-style feel. On the other hand, "Tony La Russa Baseball" manages to hit the perfect middle ground between a simulation and arcade feel. It has almost everything you could ask for in a baseball simulator, including the ability to not only play a full 162-game season but also--if you wanted to--play all regular season games. There are over 2,100 in total. I am willing to bet there is not one human being who has actually achieved that feat, but simply having the option of attempting to do so is mind-boggling. And yet, the pacing is closer to R.B.I. than to the World Series Baseball games. In all but the rarest cases, a full game will take less than thirty minutes, and that is accounting for 'simulation' aspects (such as every player getting off the field before the screen transitions to a display of the box score, hits, runs batted in, and errors, along with advice from La Russa himself). What the game lacks in how it looks and sounds, it more than makes up for in its incredible depth. Each player is accurately rated on their abilities, in a variety of statistical categories. Each team plays to its level of skill...for example, I recently simulated a full game between San Diego (a team that finished 82-80 in 1992), and Boston (who went 73-89). As you would expect, San Diego dominated, taking it by a final 8-2 box score. But incredibly enough, they were the visitors! They came into Boston and won by six runs; even though Boston was not a great team in 1992--they finished dead last in the AL East--that is still quite impressive. You won't see a weak player come out of nowhere and hit multiple homers in a game, whereas the best batters are capable of multiple homers in an inning! Getting my mind off baseball for a moment, I hear our house manager say something to the CNA who is assisting her this evening. A certain housemate has just stopped gritting his teeth, after a brief moment of doing so. I crack my knuckles, and remember advice I had received about not doing so when I get on stage to perform my "Death of a Salesman" monologue, at the forthcoming showcase in September. Once I am on stage, with the exception of when I say a few words at the beginning and bow at the end, I am the character, and do not want to do anything that will divert attention from the performance and direct it towards myself. As an actor, I feel a duty to let the words speak for themselves, and not to make anything about me personally. I am not bigger than the words I say, and if I can bring them to life in a way that will inspire people, that is worth more than anything tangibly measurable. I brought nothing into this world and can take nothing with me when I go. I'd like to leave goodness.