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I fell in love with baseball at the age of 8. Back then my team had about 90% of their games televised. Every afternoon at 1:05 you could find me watching the lovable loosers battling it out in the midwest summer sun, trying to play well enough to justify not being sent back to AAA. They didnt win much, but it didn't matter to me. I fell in love with the team, the game, the grass and ivy, the bleacher bums, and the announcers. I was hooked, and in tern doomed to a life of dissapointment. 31 years later, there is still no World Series, they havent even been able to put together a string of winning seasons worth mentioning, and it still doesn' matter. I love my team.
Watching a loosing team all your life teaches you a lot about life. Life is tough, and you don't always win, and it doesn't always end up how you plan. After all your hard work and dedication, when it looks like you are about to reach your goal, one small error can change everything. One bad hop can eat you up and cost you the game.
The great thing about baseball, and in life, is that you get to play again tomorrow. You get to lace up your cleats and take the field again, to learn from the bad hop and be ready for it the next time. Another chance t step to the plate and swing away.