Another baseball season is in the books, and it's this day that my mind reflects to the late, great Bart Giamatti and this poignant poem:
The Green Fields of the Mind
by A. Bartlett Giamatti
It breaks your heart. It was designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then, just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.