I love baseball because it is both cerebral and physical, because it is both sophisticated and vulgar, requiring both artifice and aggression. I love the beauty and grace of the game, but I also love its grittiness. I love both the sophistication of its strategy and the soil from which it springs. I love both the leisure of the game and its potential for violence.
Baseball is a mirror of life itself.
A baseball game moves at its own pace, and completes itself in its own time. I love that every at-bat, every inning, every game, every season, is its own story. I love the sense of relief at having reached first base, the pride of accomplishment that comes from making it to second, the swell of anticipation of standing on third, and the epiphany of touching home. I love the indescribable joy of hitting a ball well, the exhilirating danger of running the basepath, and the simple perfection of a ball snared silently in the webbing of one's glove. I love the joy, the bitterness, the accomplishments, the failures.