I get a lot of resistance from friends who can't understand why I attend baseball games. How can you sit for hours watching grass grow, they say. Too little action, they say. Football and hockey are more exciting, they say. The world has passed the game by, they say. Baseball executives hear it too. They have instituted pitch count timers, and cut back on novel player placement, and other things to speed up the games. But, at its core, the magic of baseball is its continuity. It is the magic of remembering our youth. It is the magic I feel when I remember the time I threw a player out at home plate from right field. Or, the time I had an unassisted double play at first base when I made an impossible catch of a line drive. Or, the time I walked 8 batters in a row in an All Star game. Every time I sit in the stands, and score a game on the computer, I remember hot summer evenings as the official scorekeeper for the municipal baseball league. But, Terence Mann, the fictional sportswriter in Field of Dreams, said it best.