I could never see those people in person but I could compare their feats to my childhood heroes and marvel at how it would be possible for someone to set the bar so high. I could dream that I would watch someone break some of those records or maybe do it myself one day. I wonder if kids today could have that same feeling towards a game that they feel is slow and boring.

In today's fast paced, immediate gratification world I'm not so sure. But then I think of how the game has weathered its earlier storms. It seems it has always been, and I think will continue to be, the children.

People seem to forget that, for all of the marketing hype and popularity of the business side of the game, baseball thrives on children. Children are not only the future, they are the past and present of the game. I love baseball because of that link it provides to not only the distant past, but also my own past.

I can relate certain events to places and times in my childhood. I can remember sitting in Landstuhl, Germany watching Reggie Jackson hit 3 home runs in October of 1977. I remember the "We are family" themed Pirates of 1979 and being torn between a team that just seemed to love the game (Pirates) and the team my mother had grown up loving (Orioles). I remember being at church camp and wondering if the strike had been settled in 1981.

I remember my first year of college sitting in disbelief as that ball passed through Buckner's legs and my third year in college in 1988, sitting in disbelief again as Gibson rounded the bases. In 1989, I was back in Landstuhl again and watched, late night, in horror as the network TV went off the air and a few moments later Armed Forced Radio and Television Services put CNN on the screen as the catastrophe was unveiled.

By 1991, I had moved to Georgia and thrilled with the rest of the state as the Braves began their incredible run, only to be outdone by Kirby in game six and the best game seven pitching performance in World Series history. As many of the people of my generation and before, memories of my life are surrounded by baseball.

Today's children are an enigma for the people who run the game. They push and pull the game in many directions to cater to a crowd that, frankly, they don't understand. The appeal of baseball has never been its ability to keep up with the times. The strength of the game is its consistency and ability to thrill, on its own, on a regular basis. Baseball games shouldn't have as many points as football games. Baseball should not try to keep up with what they think the public wants.

The public wants a relatively inexpensive outing with the family. The public wants entertaining (not to be read as high scoring) games. The public wants what it had when they were children so that they may share a part of their childhood with their own offspring. The public wants to give part of the past to those who will be the future.

To this end, the future of baseball depends as much on the parents of today as the players of tomorrow. Those who are fans will have fans as children. The history of the game is a gift you can give to your children. The story of baseball in the twentieth century is the story of America in the twentieth century. It is full of thrills, chills, and spills. It has historical significance. It has drama and hope. It's both intriguing and, at times, upsetting.

But, it is something you can share, together, for a lifetime.

My son will be six this year and is still a few years away from being able to truly enjoy the game. I will do what I can to teach him those numbers I learned along with a few new ones that we have gathered along the way. I will teach him about Jackie Robinson and Babe Ruth. I will take him to games at Enron Field and others across the country. I will show him how to keep score with a dull stub of a pencil and no good writing surface. I will show him all I know about the game, but most of all I will share the love I have for the game with him, for its future lies with him and millions of others his age.

Later...

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