A major league baseball team is a collection of 25 youngish men who have made the major leagues and discovered that in spite of it, life remains distressingly short of ideal. A bad knee still throbs before a rainstorm. Too much beer still makes for an unpleasant fullness. Girls still insist on tiresome preliminaries. And now there is a wife who gets headaches or a baby who has colic.
Baseball is for the leisurely afternoons of summer and for the unchanging dreams.
In both instances, the environment is too controlled to suit the species. The story of the curve ball is the story of the game itself. Some would say of life itself.