Buy Me Some Peanuts and HGH

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I absolutely love baseball. I was never horribly proficient at it. I wanted to play centerfield for the Yankees, but that dreamed died when I realized I can't judge flyballs, and my back foot was always in the bucket when the pitcher threw too hard. That's why I laughed so hard at the movie with Napolean Dynamite when he asked the ump if he could get the pitcher to slow it down.

Anyone who knows me realizes that I've been a Yankee nut since birth. I have enough Yankee attire to be a workable ballboy. Many of my favorite childhood memories are of sitting with my Dad, watching the Yankees win the '77 and '78 World Series. My Yankee love has been shared by each of my brothers, and now my sons (well, 2 of 3 - Matt hates the Yanks).

Anyhow, baseball is certainly trying my patience - they struck for more money in '94 - it took me awhile, but I got over it. And now, the steroids - Barry Bonds certainly isn't the personality that you want standing in front of your sport, but neither are the rest of the men accused of cheating. Cheating!! How do I explain that to my kids? "Well, son, they cheated because they wanted more money" - rings hollow. Not a great life lesson.

Yet, my love of baseball has always been about life's lessons - the trip around the bases signifying all that's right with the world - watching Derek Jeter handle himself with class in nearly every situation, visualizing Reggie Jackson hitting those 3 home runs on my 13th birthday and feeling as if he did it for me.

I will always love baseball - more now for the game it represents than the life lessons it presents.

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