Persephone Emerges from Hades

Like Persephone emerging from Hades, pitchers and catchers return to camp today in our annual rite of spring. This time the analogy is particularly apt as yesterday may have been the darkest day I have ever seen in baseball, uglier even than the many work stoppages, the Pete Rose scandal, this hearing predecessor. Think about this sad assessment: the greatest hitter and greatest pitcher I've ever seen are facing the very real possibility of prison for lying about enhancing their performance with illegal drugs.

Yet today, here we are again, the real addicts. We love baseball. And baseball will not be denied. Not by the pimps who sell it, from Selig on down to the jock sniffers who run MLBlogs. Not by the professional players and their union, who, like the pimps, are morally bereft. 

No, we love the game. The game itself. The sound of wood on leather and leather on leather. Balls soaring through the air. Slides. Diving catches. Rounding the bases. A throw home.

Baseball has a life of its own. Bud Selig, with the typical arrogance underlying all of the professional game's travails, takes credit for the popularity of baseball, but that's like taking credit for life, or beauty, or any other good thing given by the good Lord.

Thank God for baseball.