The 2009 baseball season ended last night, Yankees 7, Phillies 3. Two great teams, six skillfully played games. Personally, I was pulling for the Phillies, the National League in my book being the league that plays real baseball, but props to the Yankees for fielding a team chock-a-block with supremely talented ballplayers. Yes, they're paid well, but they still have to play well. The money didn't create their greatness, it only enables them to play with others of their ilk. A harrumph on my part, though, re the Series MVP going to Matsui, the Yankees' designated hitter. Please. The most valuable player should be a guy who does more than swing a bat. He should be out there turning a brilliant double play, or making a diving catch of a vicious line drive in left-center field, or being the most dazzling and feared closer in modern baseball history. The MVP to the DH? Bah!

Bottom line, though, baseball is over for this year. More than any previous season, this one, for me, was a whole lotta fun. I went to 10 Giants' games, I listened to or watched all the others, and rediscovered the complexity, the passion, the joy of baseball. Yes, it's flawed, but so is the world, so am I. And flawed though it may be, there's a whole lot to be said for nine innings, 27 outs, the hit and run, the sacrifice fly, the stolen base, the unhittable curveball and the Big Fly. What will I do this winter? Read some baseball books, try once again to learn exactly what the waiver, Rule 5, and the option are all about, and watch Bull Durham again. And again.

Pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training right around my birthday, the rest of the players a week or so after that. I have my hotel room booked and my plane ticket purchased. Hey, it's already November—spring is right around the corner.

You're never alone at a ball game.

The largest thing I've learned is the enormous grip that this game has on people, the extent to which it really is very important. It goes way down deep. It really does bind together.
—Bart Giamatti