Ahh, baseball. The smell of leather gloves, the crack of wood bats, the beauty of a double play. No sport quite warms the soul like baseball.

I realize football surpasses baseball as America’s game. I suppose it was inevitable, considering the “please me now, don’t make me think” nature of our culture. After all, football requires little from its fans. Its violent, in‑your‑face action commands attention, while the slower pace of baseball puts modern Americans to sleep.

In contrast, baseball is a subtle game, an acquired taste, a partnership between fan and athlete. Like a finely crafted drama or a subtly nuanced novel, one must make a personal investment in the game to fully appreciate its beauty.

For example, with no outs and the tying run on second base, a hitter works the count in his favor while the pitcher changes speeds, in and out, up and down. The casual viewer is impatient for the action to take place, but the informed fan sits in rapt attention as the drama unfolds.

It’s not that I have anything against football. After all, I played cornerback and returned kicks for a high school team which finished second in the state. I enjoy watching the Arizona Cardinals as much as anyone else does (okay, maybe that’s a poor illustration). I appreciate a hard tackle, a perfectly thrown pass, an athletic catch, an awe‑inspiring run.

But there’s a huge difference between the two sports. Baseball is a timeless story, a yarn unfolding over the course of innings and outs. Football is a 60 minute sprint: a pass, a run, a sack, a touchdown. To appreciate baseball, you have to follow the story; to appreciate football, you need only to observe the events.

Baseball is classic fiction; football is pulp fiction. Baseball is Macbeth; football is MacGyver. Baseball is John Steinbeck; football is John Grisham. Baseball is Mozart; football is Eminem. You get the idea.

Each spring, winter’s long gestation gives birth to three glorious events. The first is the magnificent flowering of our dormant desert landscape. The second is the grand celebration of Christ’s resurrection from the dead. The third is opening day at the ballpark.

With the arrival of each, hope springs eternal.

Perhaps you find it surprising that a column customarily devoted to religious topics is spent extolling the virtues of baseball. If so, perhaps you haven’t read your Bible recently. For baseball is of such importance that it is mentioned in the very first words of Scripture. After all, as my Dad often reminded me, the Bible itself begins with these immortal words (or something like them): “In the big inning, God created the heavens and the earth.”

Steve leads an informal home bible study in the heart of Cave Creek. All are welcome. For information, call (480) 510‑9518. Or, to read more of his writing, visit stevegilbertson.blogspot.com.