I went to a Phillies game tonight with my good friend Joe Master. And even though the team isn’t exactly electric right now, it was—as always—a pleasure to spend some time at the ballpark with an old friend, munching on dollar dogs, catching up on all of life’s complexities, and enjoying a sport that holds more innumerable sublimities and subtleties than one could ever hope to know fully in a lifetime.
As I sit here on my porch at the close of the evening, I think back to Ken Burns’ impossibly spectacular documentary Baseball, which I count as one of the most culturally informative pieces of work I have ever seen. I had the pleasure of meeting Burns two years ago when he spoke at Rowan University. Here’s a brief article I wrote about the experience. If you only want a taste, here’s something he said that night. He, like the sport he so beautifully documented, is an American treasure.
Just before showing us an exclusive preview clip from The Roosevelts, a work-in-progress that follows the story of the American political family, Burns said, “Think about the person closest to you in your life. A husband or a wife. They remain inscrutable to the end. There’s always something unknowable about the person closest to us, which makes all biography, in a way, a failure. How can you possibly take someone who has been dead for decades and bring him to life when you don’t even know the person you sleep next to at night? That’s a fact of human beings. But we wouldn’t be human beings if we didn’t try, if we didn’t rage against the dying of the light and try to make stories.”