In honor of Will Leitch's Are We Winning: Fathers and Sons In The New Golden Age of Baseball, we remember our own fondest moment with our father, our national pastime, and the ties between us all that bind us together. This is deeply personal, but did not make the cut of anecdotes included in the book.
I looked at the diamond, the perfect geometric representation of bounded potential extending into the heavy afternoon air.
"Dad, what is baseball? Is it our national identity painted out in simple chalk lines? Is it our conscience, reminding us of what is ruled and fair? Is a metaphor for life? Or is it the theater of the emotions that says what you and I can never say to each other, the pipeline for all our muted troubles and concerns? Is it a constant reminder of what we've lost in our time, a game played at the pace of a 19th century, an agrarian relic set in a post-industrial wasteland of ironies and lost innocence?"
My father sipped his beer. He then looked at me with slate grey eyes, and he spoke.
"When the fuck does football season start? This shit suuuuuuuuuucks." He then threw his beer can at the fence, and called the umpire a homosexual. We had to leave the game.
We then went home and watched Commando together instead.
This excerpt from the cutting room floor of Will Leitch's new book is sponsored by Football: A Sport Where People Actually Hit Each Other And Do Things That Make Effete Cocktard George Will Shiver In His Frilly Garters.