Monday photo feature

Here we are in Busch Stadium, the home ballpark for my favorite baseball team, the Saint Louis Cardinals.  I was here Friday evening to take in a game between the Cardinals and their most hated rival, those dastardly Chicago Cubs.

It was the fourth time I've seen the Cardinals and Cubs play in person.  In 2011 I attended a game at Wrigley Field on the North Side of Chicago.  The Cubs won that game in a walkoff, and I had to sit there while the insufferable song "Go Cubs Go" blasted over the PA system.  (The Cardinals got the last laugh that year, however, by winning the World Series.)

The following season I saw the Cardinals and Cubs play at Busch Stadium on consecutive days.  The good guys won both games.  And that was the last time I attended a Cardinals game until this past Friday evening.  The Cardinals rewarded my return by playing one of the better games they've played all year: with good pitching and defense, smart base running, and timely hitting, they beat the Cubs 5-0.

Baseball is the only one of the big pro team sports I've followed in the last thirty years or so.  In general, I'd rather be participating in my own athletic pursuits than sitting in a stadium watching other people be athletes.  But baseball is an enjoyable diversion in the summertime.  Most of the time I listen to the games on the radio while I work in my shop or do things around the house.

One of the things about baseball that fascinates me is its organized minor league system.  Guys show up at the single-A level having been superstars throughout childhood, only to have to distinguish themselves in the subtlest of ways to move up.  Many a touted prospect has failed to reach the majors because his reflexes were hundredths of a second too slow, or he swung at a pitch out of the strike zone just a little too often, or his throws were a fraction of a degree off target, or there were simply too many guys with similar skill sets on the big league club.  For every player on a major league roster, there are dozens who were probably capable of being there but fell short for some tiny reason, and that has helped me come to terms with my status as a good-but-not-great canoe and kayaker racer.  If paddling were baseball I'd probably be playing out my career in double-A, and I've accepted that and try to acquit myself there the best I can.

I also enjoy hearing the radio announcers talk about the players' daily training.  Mastering the mechanics of pitching or batting sounds a lot like mastering an effective forward stroke.  A baseball player might have greater potential for fame and wealth than I do, but his daily routine as an athlete is remarkably similar to mine.

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