It’s no secret that even President Obama’s most ardent supporters have been disappointed in him—some to the extent that they won’t be voting for him at all. And on the other side of the aisle, conservatives have never truly felt like Mitt Romney was ever “their guy.” And it’s quite obvious that the public sentiment […]


Ping, said the ball as it left the aluminum bat, and sailed over the head of the second baseman. I made it to first base before the outfielder could collect it, and so in three years of Little League, I can claim that one hit to my name.

I was ten, and my playing experience permanently colored my opinion of baseball. Playing outfield bored me; batting terrified me. Why would I spend any more time on a pastime that I didn’t enjoy?

The damage to my relationship with baseball endured long into my adulthood. I went to the occasional baseball game as a social event – Wrigley Field to get drunk watching the Cubs lose; Camden Yards to hobnob with my wife’s law firm in the skyboxes; even a couple of games here in Tampa because it seemed like a “cool dad” thing to do with my boys. Otherwise, baseball was not in my life and I didn’t miss it a bit.

Then, in late August, it looked like the Rays were going to make a run to win the division. I caught the beginning of one game by accident while having dinner with the boys; we went home and watched the rest. It was the first time I can remember intentionally watching baseball on TV.