They will come, they will arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. "Of course, we don't mind if you look around, It's only $20 per person," you'll say. They will pass over the money without a second thought because it is money they have and peace they lack. And they will walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have a reserved seats somewhere along the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered on their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their face. People will come. The one constant through all the years has been baseball. America has been rolled like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game- it's part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good and it could...