Thanks for starting this thread, Seth- this is truly community work! Also: there are some truly great stories and even poetry on this thread. These experiences are the non-analytic "stuff" that makes baseball the greatest sport ever. There's more than enough negativity right now, and much of it for good reason. However, one of the great things that makes baseball such a beautiful game is the fact that while we can project (and baseball must be the stat-friendliest sport) we will never be able to predict. Case in point: the 2012 and 2013 Bosox. Hope is never unreasonable, even if unlikely. My own story: my maternal uncle was the Little League coach in small town South Carolina, and bought me my first bat, glove, and ball. Every summer when we went to visit them, he'd just add me in to his team. I'm 45, so this was the early 70's, and he was the local tobacco-spitting champion (43 feet, if I recall). Anyway, the chaw, the pinetar (this was all wood bats & tons of tar-style Little League) the smell of the dirt, the grass, and the pines will never leave me. Through him, I discovered that being a lefty is a blessing. Where else would you get that? He is a diehard Braves fan, and so I remember watching Hammerin' Hank do his thing, watching with him. We also marveled at The Big Red Machine and the We Are Family Pirates- my first Bert experience- though Kent Tekulve's delivery made a bigger impression at the time. Later, my family moved to Europe and did primary school in Brussels, Belgium. I played Little League there, and that was an anchor to me. When we went back to the US for summer vacation, I always had ball to talk with my uncle. Stranger in a strange land, but I was good. A few years later, we moved back to MN, and that was the Butch Wynegar/Roy Smalley period. I think I had a Ron Cey bat at the time. The Twins were not good, but that wasn't the point. Your team is where your heart and home is, and even with all the moving, Minnesota was my home. Case closed. In '87, I was in my freshman year at college, and from where I was in the Wedge on 24th St., I could hear the cheering from downtown. In '91, my team was pitted against my uncle's team. What a dream come true! Now I am teaching in China, but still avidly following the Twins every day. I'm truly concerned about the state of the club. However, baseball is The Great Leveler- another beauty of the game. Just look at the injuries in Spring Training. If Verlander goes down and Cabrera has some sort of lingering injury, then the AL Central is wide open. Sometimes, that's all it takes. Anyway, I am teaching US Culture this semester, and I've made baseball the centerpiece. I don't think you can grasp America if you can't grasp baseball. I've set up a simplified fantasy league, am holding clinics, am teaching all the baseball idioms that make American English what it is, and next week will have an opening day party. At the end of the semester, we'll have a scrimmage, followed by a tailgate party. Gotta do it right. Many other posters have made great points about the uniqueness and beauty of the game- that's all in the lesson. Certain memories stick in my mind though. Moving from Chicago to LA after graduation, and listening to games all through the night, even in New Mexico... 2001 working in Ventura and having the choice of listening to Scully or Jon Miller. Watching the D-Backs beat the Yanquis post 9/11... In the end, I guess it's all about tradition, culture, family. I love the history (I'm a historian) and stats, but there's so much more. Listening to a game while driving cross-country through the night is sublime... where else do we get extended story-telling in our culture? What is more quintessentially American than listening to a ball game while you are On The Road?