A man becomes preeminent, he’s expected to have enthusiasms. Enthusiasms, enthusiasms. What are mine? What draws my admiration? What is that which gives me joy? Baseball! A man – a man stands alone at the plate. This is the time for what? For individual achievement. There he stands alone. But in the field, what? Part – of – a – team. Looks, throws, catches, hustles. Part of one big team. Bats himself the live-long day, Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, and so on. If his team don’t field – what is he? You follow me? No one! Sunny day, the stands are full of fans. What does he have to say? I’m goin’ out there for myself. But, I get nowhere unless the team wins.

[If you know what happens next, we should get a saspirilla together sometime.]