"Each year it seems there is one, fleeting moment that captures the
essence of the sport. One moment in which we are young again, in
the prime of our youth, competing for glory or the love of a girl.
This year, that moment took place at home plate. Plays at home are
unique in the game, for it is there that games are won or lost. It
is there that the determination of the runner meets head-on the
skill of the field. And this play was no different. The runner
rounded third and the throw went to home. Glory hung in the balance
as the game was reduced to two players. Ray Richards was our man
behind the plate that day. The pressure was on and there were so
many paths to failure: paths that have been taken so many times
before. But not this day. Ray stood his ground, made a fabulous
catch and an authoritative tag, and, in doing so, captured, just
for a moment, the illusion that this game might actually mean
something. But it is exactly the illusion that gives the game
meaning: one brief opportunity to relive simpler days.
And so we cheered.
(PS: It should be noted that Ray also endured the mocking support
of our number one fan, his wife, who, on the heels of yet another
humiliating strike-out, shouted across the field to him the immortal
words,
"You'll do better next time, honey!")"