It is a sport of endless summers and new beginnings, of hope revived every spring in the unchanging climes of Florida and Arizona. And like all American sports, it’s one of ever-expanding playoffs, of exponential salary increases and lockouts, of sabermetrics and steroids, of stadiums that double as amusement parks, anxious that the game alone isn’t enough to entertain us.
Like one of those Psych 101 drawings that depicts either an old woman or a young girl depending upon your perspective, baseball is both old and new, Roy Hobbes and Billy Beane, the Green Monster as well as whatever they call that Tommy Bahama acid dream out in Miami’s left field. It’s left to the fans to choose which side of the diptych to see. –James Santel