3 thoughts on “There Is Still Only One National Pastime”
Moyer didn’t get win last night, but which of those other obnoxious, overproduced and overhyped national entertainments could have given us so poignant a performance? Man, time, place, and competition reaffirmed the ancient wisdom:
“The game, we may conclude, is worth the candle. We have no other choice if we wish to hold on to this unique attachment, this particular patch of green. Only by looking at baseball entire, I believe, will we be able to fit it into our understanding of ourselves and our times, and only that clear view will allow us to go on watching the game and to take pleasure in its scarcely diminished splendors.”
Moyer didn’t get the win last night, but which other national entertainment might have given us so poignant a performance? The current presidential aspirants singing melody on a scripted inanity by our nation’s Patron Fraud but emphasizes Moyer’s, and baseball’s, hard-earned grace. Whether a few hours of simple truth redeems the otherwise low, loud confusion of the broader culture that produced it is a question on which we should not too long dwell. Rather, let us recall Angell-ic wisdom and, as we can, “take pleasure in (baseball’s) scarcely diminished splendors.”
Don’t know how that happened. Apologies. The second’s an improvement, I think.
Moyer didn’t get win last night, but which of those other obnoxious, overproduced and overhyped national entertainments could have given us so poignant a performance? Man, time, place, and competition reaffirmed the ancient wisdom:
“The game, we may conclude, is worth the candle. We have no other choice if we wish to hold on to this unique attachment, this particular patch of green. Only by looking at baseball entire, I believe, will we be able to fit it into our understanding of ourselves and our times, and only that clear view will allow us to go on watching the game and to take pleasure in its scarcely diminished splendors.”
Moyer didn’t get the win last night, but which other national entertainment might have given us so poignant a performance? The current presidential aspirants singing melody on a scripted inanity by our nation’s Patron Fraud but emphasizes Moyer’s, and baseball’s, hard-earned grace. Whether a few hours of simple truth redeems the otherwise low, loud confusion of the broader culture that produced it is a question on which we should not too long dwell. Rather, let us recall Angell-ic wisdom and, as we can, “take pleasure in (baseball’s) scarcely diminished splendors.”
Don’t know how that happened. Apologies. The second’s an improvement, I think.