To fully appreciate the
magic of New York Central, one needs to be present on nights like this, when
two house league teams get the rare pleasure of taking to the crimson sand, the
perfectly-manicured green stretched out before them in a golden summer
twilight.
If New York Central is
good for their souls, can you imagine how their parents feel?
At 12 and 13 these peewees are the perfect age — old enough to play the game with some skill, yet young enough to retain some childish enthusiasm for it.
They delight in having a scoreboard, though the score doesn’t truly matter. These are friendly St. Thomas rivals elated, regardless of the outcome, to play baseball where it was meant to be played — at a handsome little ballpark that seems to echo with the shouts of summers past.
At the end, just try to tell the winners from the losers and just try to get them to leave.
Once they do, you know they will be back.