Waxing baseball philosophic

Hope springs eternal, in baseball anyway. As the Grapefruit and Cactus League games get played this month and next leading up to the regular season start on March 26, everyone's a contender. But can you contend with the past?

I don't mean that in a bad or melancholy way. I look forward to baseball as much this year as any other even as I've said excessively that sports mean less to me every day. There's just something about baseball which separates it from the pack. Better writers than me have tried to describe it for years. I think the crux of baseball is that it's transcendental.

There: that's your overwrought, ten dollar word of the day. Yet I find that it's apt. Baseball lives beyond everyday life, almost in the ethereal realm of the not quite true, not quite believable. It's the perfect blend of offense and defense. Everybody plays the both sides of the game (other than the monstrosity of the designated hitter). You could play with your father or grandfather, who could never run upcourt with you (and you had better never tackle Gramps). Whole families could play. Not so much with most other sports.

You can make baseball movies like Field of Dreams too, because baseball sees, accepts, and understands its place in Americana. Moonlight Graham says more for baseball than nearly anything else, and he hardly played. That's a far better statement for a sport than choreographed and fake celebrations after meaningless touchdowns.

Yes, it's time for baseball. Let's play two.