My favorite feel-good story this year: Trea Turner played abysmally after signing a $300 million deal with the Philadelphia Phillies. He'd been struggling to meet the expectations that come with such a contract until the night of August 4 when Philadelphia fans gave him a standing ovation. He ended the season as one of the best hitters in baseball. You can't make this up.

Baseball needs to be healthy and fun because baseball is more than an exhilarating, beautiful sport. It is a cross-generational family tradition and an irreplaceable part of Americana. "The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball," James Earl Jones intones at the end of Field of Dreams, "This field, this game is a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that was good, and that could be again." 

This year was the first year my son played little league. The first day I drove him to practice I smelled the dirt and heard the thwack of ball and glove and had to hide the unexpected tears that came from nowhere. "The memories will be so thick, they'll have to brush them away from their faces," Jones says. 

My son was immediately better than I ever was. He has shockingly good natural defensive instincts. In one of his first games he scored an unassisted double play, catching a sharp line drive and tagging out a runner. At 14, he can already throw longer and harder than I can. I watched every game (but have not volunteered to umpire yet).

I went to three big league games this year. The last time, my dad joined my son and me to watch the Dodgers beat the Nationals, three generations of Dodger loyalty. It was just one game among 162 they played, it rained out in the seventh inning, and it was unremarkable. We did get to see Freddie Freeman set a new record for the most number of doubles hit by a Dodger in a single season. (See what I mean about arcane statistics?)

But that is part of the point. It doesn't have to be remarkable. Some moments--like Kirk Gibson's home run--are indelible and unforgettable. But mostly, like any sport, baseball is part of the background, something you do with your dad, your son, your buddies, on Tuesday. It's playing catch, watching the game, and comparing scores. It's the thing around which we gather to enjoy fellowship, the common memories we share that makes us part of each other--one small strand in the "mystic chords of memory" of families, friendships, and nations.