I caught an Uber from north Scottsdale to Sky Harbor Airport the other day.
My Uber driver, let’s call him “Mickey,” started talking to me about baseball. It seems that Mickey’s fallen out of love with the game. The Astros’ cheating scandal, ever-escalating salaries, 3 ½-hour games, the threat of the designated hitter coming to the National League, too many strikeouts and too many cheap home runs topped his list of grievances.
“It’s not the game I grew up with,” said Mickey, who looked to be about 50. “I just don’t love it anymore. I don’t even think my dad would love it now — if he were still alive. And he was the biggest Yankees fan ever.”
I began thinking about what he said. To be honest, it bummed me out, because a lot of what Mickey said is true. Seeking redemption for the game I have loved since I was a kid, I turned to my baseball library when I got home.
Here’s a sampling of what I found. It made me feel better:
“A hot dog at the ballpark is better than steak at the Ritz.” — actor Humphrey Bogart
“The pitch and its extended amplifications made it look as if Gibson were leaping at the batter, with hostile intent. He always looked much…