Working around the house one evening last week, I listened with half an ear to some sort of documentary on Channel 9. 

I’m sure you’ve had this happen:  You realize that a program is going on at length about something you have little interest in.  You reach to turn off the TV the next time you walk past it. 

And then this occurs—the program about the topic you have little interest in grabs your attention. You find yourself standing in front of the TV; enthralled, distracted from the activity you had in mind.

I doubt very much that you’d ever guess what the subject of the film was that evening, so I’ll just tell you. It was baseball. 

I don’t much care about baseball unless the Mariners are winning, which is an embarrassing admission, as it identifies me as my least favorite sort of sports fan. 

Perhaps I should admit that I enjoyed the films Field of Dreams, Bull Durham, and A League of Their Own, though it may be significant that Kevin Costner starred in all three of those baseball movies. 

I guess, as my grandma would say, that’s neither here nor there.

Back to the program.

What I saw covered what I’d guess were baseball’s glory years. Baseball was King.  In the 30s and 40s, I have the impression more guys played the game purely because they loved the game. 

I can’t remember what player said he would have played for no money at all, but I heard that a long time ago, and he probably wasn’t the only one to say it. 

Haven’t heard it lately.

The film featured too many famous athletes to name—and more than I would be interested in naming. Two of them captured much of my attention: Joe DiMaggio and Jackie Robinson.  Most of you probably already knew more about both of them than I know now.

Joe DiMaggio?  Apparently, his work ethic and love of the game combined into a sort of perfect storm. I suppose there never will be a kid in Little League who doesn’t have a Joe DiMaggio card in his collection. 

I watched shots of hit after hit after hit—56 of them in consecutive games! 

The words used to describe him were words like “ultimate hero” and “symbol of greatness.” He thanked God for making him a Yankee.

Jackie Robinson?  Robinson, born into a sharecropper’s family, believed every American had the right to first class citizenship. Eventually, determined to bring integration to professional baseball, he signed with the Dodgers in 1947. 

His color provoked loathsome cruelty from bigoted Americans, including men he played against.  Bigotry, of course, doesn’t end, but courage overwhelms it, I think, and Jackie Robinson certainly was courageous, as well as phenomenally athletic.

I watched a program on Channel 9 last week. It was about America.

About people, dreams, gifts, disappointments, convictions, wartime, depression, dedication, good and evil.

And it was about baseball.