…there I was again, a strange boy who would rather steal second base than a car. I always thought of baseball as a school of life. It really teaches you a lot about the world you’re living in.
Taking risks, for example. You can’t steal second base keeping a foot on first. You need to dare and leave certainty for the unknown.
I always liked playing right field. But what i love the most is the feeling you get when you reach the field in a cold and frosty early spring morning. You get changed, you put your glove on and take a deep breath. In that very moment , the smell of wet grass pervades your senses and a feeling of relief, of joy – pure joy – grabs you by the wrist and leads you toward first base, then to right field, where the foul post immediately reminds you that *this* is the place where the last barricades hold on. Behind them, it’s nobody’s land.
It is a strange sport. It’s the only field in life where you can succeed three times over ten and be considered a good performer, it’s the only sport that where you’re on offense, the other teams controls the ball, plus, one of the most reassuring aspects of baseball is that, unlike life, once you get three strikes, even the best lawyer in the world can get you off. It really makes you think.