"They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have and peace they lack. And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh... people will come Ray. People will most definitely come." Field of Dreams.
People will return once again to the fields of their childhoods to cheer for their heroes. We'll watch games that mean nothing in standings and be thankful that we have one more time emerged from the doldrums of winter. The snow will melt and our heroes will journey north with the first birds of the season and bring with them the game we all love, and we will watch them and wish it were us running on to those fields. It's hard for some to understand the special connection with baseball that America has; it's hard for most to understand how even the seasons seem to have revolved around it. Baseball has returned and with it another youthful Spring of optimism. I may have left America for now, but I have brought the game with me. Go Yankees!