Baseball is one of the best things about America. This homegrown sport is a fascinating combination of athleticism, teamwork, intimidation, strategy, and statistical analysis. I love baseball as a sport, however, I was born without a few crucial attributes of good ballplayer, namely: hand-eye coordination, talent, and discipline. I played little league as a kid, and nowadays I will play in a game of softball where I am allowed to throw like a girl without being laughed (out loud) at. Talent notwithstanding, I have been fascinated with baseball ever since my days playing little league. I have such great admiration for athletes who are able to excel to such heights at a game of micrometers, and microseconds.

Growing up in Houston I was a Houston Astros fan. Being an Astros fan had its pluses and minuses. In its favor were the kickass Astrodome and my favorite pitcher of all-time, Nolan Ryan. To its detriment, it meant rooting for a team that had never (and still never has) even played in a World Series. This taught me at a young age, how to deal with disappointment and mediocrity. This would prove to be valuable experience in my current position as a Red Sox fan. The best experience I had as an Astros fan, though, was that of bonding with my father. I can remember going to games with him, and asking questions about bunts, hit-and-run, stealing signals, and the workings of a squeeze play. He always had the answer; if he didn't he may have made it up, but I still thought the world of him. Baseball brought me closer to my father, and I suspect that many baseball fans could offer similar fond childhood sentiments about the game.

As a side note, my personal theory is that this is a big reason there is such a large gender-gap when it comes to the appreciation of professional sports. It goes along with the usual gender stereotypes of buying pink and blue, Barbies and GI Joes, ballet lessons and karate. Simply put, moms bond with their daughters at the mall, and dads bond with their sons at baseball games. It is no wonder that my girlfriend's appreciation of the vast intricacies of the national pastime is about on par with my appreciation of an afternoon at the outlet mall. If I have a daughter someday, I'd like to go on the record now as vowing to break this cycle with her.

Thinking about the Astros' Nolan Ryan reminds me that baseball has provided some great role models over the past century. Sure there have been the Pete Roses and Jose Cansecos. Even Babe Ruth was a legendary drunk, but what organization doesn't have its share of disreputable figures? The government? Corporations? TV? Movies? Musicians? Believe it or not, even organized labor has seen a few shady figures pass through its ranks. There is no point in letting a few bad seeds spoil the bunch. Nolan Ryan is the perfect example of a great person rising to the top of his game through hard work and dedication. Even though he set staggering records for strikeouts and no hitters and won more games than any modern-day pitcher, he would always speak with humility about his accomplishments. He is still a member of the community, living on a ranch in Alvin, TX he raises cattle. He created a foundation specifically to give back to his community, and a damn fine steak sauce to support it (ed note: I've never tried the steak sauce). Nolan Ryan is a role model to be sure, but he's not the exception. There are lots of charitable players in the game today. Schilling has set up a charity program for ALS research in every city he has played in, and maintains them even after he has moved on. Not only does he donate his own money for every strikeout and win to all three local chapters he recruits fans to do the same. Garciaparra holds camps and clinics for local kids and also has a charity to give back to local youth. As an organization, the Red Sox actively use their marketing image and players to generate money for cancer research through the Jimmy Fund. There are literally hundreds of high-profile players and teams engaged in giving back to their communities. It is unfortunate that the few scandals are what remain in people's minds, but they sell a lot more newspapers and everyone loves salaciousness.

Which brings me to my next point. Baseball is wholesome family entertainment. It does not have sex, violence, or other obscenities (unless you can read lips). Its wholesome nature makes it equally enjoyable for people of different backgrounds, cultures, ages, economic classes. Baseball is great because it brings communities and people of all ages together with a common purpose, to support the hometown team. When the local team is doing well, the feeling of excitement in the community is almost palpable. Last October, you could walk down the street in Kenmore and start talking to practically anyone about the Red Sox, and you could see a sparkle in their eye, and a slight upward curve in their lips. Any other time of year, if you approach someone in Kenmore you will be told readily to "Fahk owaf." That's the power of baseball to bring the community closer together.

Baseball can also be very therapeutic. It provides a much needed distraction from the stress of day to day life. Between working all day and the constant stream of depressing news, life can seem pretty overwhelming sometimes. It is a well known fact that people need an outlet for their stress. There are plenty of destructive ways to deal with it. Some drink to excess, some resort to violence, some smoke, some watch TV, others just suffer with anxiety and depression. Personally I find it nice to escape from real problems and concern myself with someone else's stress. It is nice to get excited about a playoff series, and know deep down that no matter what happens, it is still essentially meaningless to you. At the same time, this essential meaninglessness stays out of your frontal lobe as you ride the emotional roller coaster ride that your team will take you on over the course of a season.

I admit that I am slightly fanatical about baseball. If you follow the sport like me you know about every trade your team makes, every injury as it happens, you know the top five players on every team, you know who's on a tear and who's slumping, you know about trade rumors, and can name at least a dozen team's general managers. That's half the fun. It's just like a roller coaster ride. At times it can make you feel overwhelmed with anticipation and sometimes you can't even look. Then it culminates with the biggest players facing off in the biggest games with everything on the line. You get carried away in the excitement and you know that in a few short minutes you will be either jumping around and celebrating with a room full of strangers or you will be driving home alone listening to country music. I've heard people say that it's like watching a soap opera. I think it's actually more similar to following politics or business markets without all the grave seriousness of politics or business.

The best part about baseball, though, is going to the park, smelling the hot dogs and popcorn, and hearing the crack of the bat. Watching the best athletes in the world compete at the highest human level possible is like going to a museum and observing a fine piece of art. Each is awe inspiring because of its superlative nature.

Sure, baseball has its share of problems. Ticket prices are too high. Some players cheat using drugs, cork or sandpaper. The billionaires in management are constantly squabbling with the millionaires in the union. In fact, the strike of 1994 turned me off from the game for five years, or maybe it was the drunken haze of college that coincided with that period. My point is, that no system is perfect, but you can't indict an entire system, which is generally beneficent, because it has a few flaws. If that were the case, I should have moved out of the United States long ago.