Baseball recalls summers of boyhood

Of all the sights and sounds from my childhood, one remains almost intact: Baseball.

It's more than a game to me. It's a passion. I'm a fan of other sports, but baseball is a part of my life. It is a part of my being.

Growing up, summer was my most precious time. It was the "good old summertime," and it was when my boyhood heroes played baseball.

The pleasant boyhood memories of summer and of baseball have become intertwined. Growing up changed nothing.

The sound I most associate with childhood is that of baseball on the radio. Today, I would just as soon listen to a radio play-by-play account of baseball as see it on TV.

Other sports events I want to watch on TV. A baseball game on radio is a sound from my childhood that I haven't outgrown.

Back then, accounts of Major League games were likely to be recreated, meaning that an announcer in a studio many miles away from the stadium, armed with the basic facts of the game via teletype, made it sound like the most exciting game ever played.

That made no difference to me. I loved the sound then and now. Baseball is a constant in a world sorely in need of constants. Oh, the players are different. And only a few of my boyhood heroes were well-paid. Today, even marginally talented players are millionaires, and some superstars have $100 million contracts.

For the life of me, I can't in my wildest dreams imagine what anybody could possibly do that is worth $100 million. With the possible exception of a teacher who helps a child learn to read, I can't think of anyone worth that much money.

The faults of the people involved in baseball players and owners notwithstanding the game itself remains what it always has been[[In-content Ad]]