There are two sports whose architecture fills me ever with wonder: golf and baseball. Of these two, it is baseball that stirs me to the very depths. Maybe the association of golf with country-club exclusivity cuts away at its magic; maybe a Scottish lad who grows up near St Andrews feels about golf as American boys do about baseball. Baseball unites heaven and earth: it inscribes a pattern of clean lines, orbs, and diamonds upon the dust from which we were formed and in which we toil, and the lush green in which we find rest. Upon that heaven-and-earth field, prodigal sons set out on barren base paths; and we watch and wait to see if they will make it back home.