Sunday, August 16, 2015

The Waters of Memory


Not far downstream was a dry channel where the river had run once, and part of the way to come to know a thing is through its death. But years ago I had known the river when it flowed through this now dry channel, so I could enliven its stony remains with the waters of memory. – Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It and Other Stories
Hannah and I journeyed to Phillipsburg, New Jersey, this past Sunday to visit my father’s gravesite. Hannah was studying abroad in Israel when my father died four months ago and she wanted to visit Dad’s resting place before summer passed us by. On a beautiful, sun-filled afternoon, we drove through scenic Bucks County along the Delaware River as we listened to a recording of Dad’s funeral service from North Carolina. Dad was a city boy who grew to love the country, so it was particularly fitting to listen to eulogies and remembrances of my father while driving along a stretch of land he loved and admired.

We passed through the quaint towns and tree-lined thoroughfares of northeastern Pennsylvania and admired the lush green countryside, the classic red barns, the rivers and streams that wind their way through this wondrous land. Crossing the river into northwestern New Jersey, we ascended the rolling hills of historic Phillipsburg, where I was mysteriously comforted by the familiarity and memories of a quiet little town I never really knew.

I was only two years old when my family left Phillipsburg, so the bulk of my memories of this place are based on the remembrances of others, photographs, and visits here later in life. And yet, I felt a strong sense of belonging as we drove through the town’s quiet streets and approached St. James Lutheran Church, where my father was pastor for eight years following his graduation from seminary. An historic church dating to the early 1700’s – one of its first pastors was J. Peter Muhlenberg – it is known as the “Old Straw Church” for its early days (before the current church building was constructed in 1834) when it sat in the midst of local farms and the rural surroundings of a less industrial time and place. Today, the church sits on a tiny stretch of land surrounded by highways, a lonely island of contemplation sandwiched between thoroughfares lined with fast food joints and retail outlets, an isolated outcast of spirituality amidst an American cacophony of development.


The church’s old cemetery sits across the street, its collection of head stones and gravesites dating back to the 18th century. There is something both odd and comforting about seeing your surname on a head stone, a reference to The Rev. Edwin L. Ehlers, “1929 – 2015, Devoted Husband, Father, Pastor,” as if Dad is there watching through the gentle breeze. The rational side of me knows otherwise, but the spiritual side, the person of faith that refuses to let go despite the noise and distractions of everyday life, senses his presence. I am comforted by the thought that Dad is there with us, watching over us with a gentle smile.

The void left by my father’s passing has forced me to examine the narrative of my life, the plot points that explain who I am. A presence I had taken for granted – Saturday phone calls and twice yearly visits – are missing now, filled by memories and photographs and stories of days forever lost. I try to think of the stories my Dad shared with us over the years, of places and people he had encountered along the way. Like the day he saw Jackie Robinson play his first minor league game in Jersey City in 1946 or when he jumped for joy in 1951 after Bobby Thompson’s home run won the pennant for the New York Giants on the final day of the season. Or tales of sadder times, such as the moment he learned his brother had been shot from the skies over Austria in 1945. His life as a Lutheran pastor offered stories of joy and sadness, growth and heartbreak, from the many people and families he counseled and comforted along the way.

Stories are a fundamental part of being human and help us make sense of the world around us. In truth, my Dad was not a storyteller in the traditional sense, though he offered anecdotes of life-shaping moments whenever they proved instructive or helpful to others. The “stories of life are often more like rivers than books,” wrote Norman Maclean in A River Runs Through It. They flow under and around us, quietly carving and shaping our lives and the memories we hold dear.

I wish I remembered more clearly the stories and anecdotes my father told throughout his life, or recalled some of his Sunday morning sermons. I wish we had played more golf or taken more walks together. Maybe then I would have better remembered the wisdom and insight he offered along the way.

The anecdotes of life – the humorous moments, the challenges confronted and lessons learned from the mistakes and experiences of our lives and the lives of others – are what guide us and help us place in context the narrative arc of our own existence. If we could place time in a bottle, we would have less need for memories and less regret for wasted days. For now, I must content myself with the meaningful memories of my past and hopeful longings for the future, for my children, and whatever years I have left on this earth.

In Loud and Clear (Random House, 2004), author and columnist Anna Quindlen writes of her regrets, after her children had grown, of not living in the moment when they were younger. “This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs,” she writes. She looks at an old photograph of her three young children “sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day . . . And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in a hurry to get on to the next things: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.” 

As life passes by ever so swiftly, as I look down at my father’s gravesite while standing with my youngest daughter, now a senior in college, I feel the same regrets so eloquently expressed by Anna Quindlen. Like the waters of a flowing stream and the whispers of a gentle breeze, we remember, we live, and we move on. For in the words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “The heart, like the mind, has a memory. And in it are kept the most precious keepsakes.”

Let us be silent, that we may hear the whisper of God.
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sunday, July 26, 2015

The Vienna Agreement: A Victory for Diplomacy


Our differences are real, and the difficult history between our nations cannot be ignored. But it is possible to change. The path of violence and rigid ideology, a foreign policy based on threats to attack your neighbors or eradicate Israel – that’s a dead end. A different path, one of tolerance and peaceful resolution of conflict, leads to more integration into the global economy, more engagement with the international community, and the ability of the Iranian people to prosper and thrive. – President Barack Obama, July 14, 2015
For most of my life the world has been divided between hawks and doves, between those who believe superior force and military power are the only means to achieve a desired goal, and those who believe negotiation and compromise are essential to genuine peace and understanding. Hawks love to throw out terms like appeasement and capitulation whenever anything less than complete surrender is achieved, while doves believe that one-sided victories are mostly an illusion and are achieved, if at all, at extreme costs in blood and treasure.

In affairs of state, leaders of great nations must balance and weigh competing interests, assess risks, consider short-term gains and long-term objectives, examine past history and project future behavior. There is no pre-determined road map to resolving difficult conflicts. The noise of the chattering class, of media outlets and opinion makers, of politicians and pundits, must not be allowed to distract from the actual work being done by our diplomats and Foreign Service Officers around the world. A good leader must remain focused at all times on two key questions: What outcome is in the best interests of our nation? What result will make the world safer and more peaceful?

Ideology and political division often cloud the true nature of international complexities. In 1964, Richard Nixon declared on a trip to Asia that “it would be disastrous to the cause of freedom” for the United States to recognize Red China. It was a nice talking point. But eight years later, as President, when the interests of the nation and future prospects of world peace were more directly in his hands, Nixon changed course and restored diplomatic relations with China. The non-governing ideologues that opposed this move predicted doom and gloom. They believed China and communism must be defeated at all costs and that to “engage” with the Chinese would only legitimize and strengthen them.

More than four decades later, China and the world have been transformed for the better. China is not a model of democracy and liberty, but it is a legitimate member of the world of nations and the reform elements in that country have made gradual strides in loosening the oppressive nature of Chinese society. Through trade, academic exchanges, and diplomacy, China has become more open, a genuine trading partner, and a country the West can deal with. The world today is a better and safer place because of our willingness to engage in diplomacy with the Chinese, to trade with them, talk to them, and exert our influence through the positive forces of economics, art, technology, and social exchange.

Similarly, the arms control agreements between the United States and the former Soviet Union, including those entered into by Presidents Nixon, Carter, and Reagan in the 1970s and 1980s, made the world safer and helped transform relations between two of the world’s most formidable adversaries. Although mutual suspicion and hostility remain, the degree of cooperation and engagement between the United States and Russia on a host of issues is a source of hope after fifty years of Cold War hostility and a policy of mutually assured destruction.

I have been thinking of these things lately as I have reviewed the parameters of the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action regarding the Islamic Republic of Iran’s Nuclear Program (“the Vienna agreement”), that was reached earlier this month between Iran and the six world powers known as the P5+1 (China, France, Russia, the United Kingdom, and the United States, plus Germany). No deal is perfect and this one does not contain everything I would have liked. But I am persuaded that implementation of the Vienna agreement is in the long-term interests of the United States, our European allies, Israel and the nations of the Middle East.

The agreement should be assessed on what it aims to do – prevent Iran from obtaining or developing a nuclear weapon. The agreement requires a substantial rollback of Iran’s nuclear enrichment capabilities, reduces Iran’s nuclear (low-enriched uranium) stockpile by 98 percent, limits Iran’s ability to research and develop nuclear weapons, stops all uranium enrichment activities at Iran’s deep underground facility at Fordow, and disables Iran’s ability to produce bomb-grade plutonium at Iran’s only heavy-water reactor at Arak. The agreement imposes a stringent system of inspections and monitoring that allows for on-site inspections and installation of the most advanced surveillance technology. Meanwhile, Iran remains a signatory of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty and is permanently subject to its requirements. The Vienna agreement is a responsible first step to peacefully and permanently stopping the Iranians from developing a nuclear weapon.

Israeli Prime Minister Benyamin Netanyahu and the Republicans running for president contend that the P5+1 partners should have insisted on a better deal. But these critics do not suggest what that better deal looks like or how we obtain it. Most of the critics seem to prefer no deal to the present one. But rejecting the present agreement and achieving no agreement would ensure only that Iran escalates its nuclear program and develops nuclear weapon capabilities. Threats of war simply lend support to Iranian hard-liners, who themselves oppose the deal.

Netanyahu believes we should continue the sanctions regime, or impose even greater sanctions, until Iran capitulates and agrees to entirely dismantle all nuclear capabilities, military and civilian. He also insists that any deal require Iran to recognize Israel’s right to exist and stop supporting Hezbollah and the Syrian regime of Bashar al-Assad. That would be wonderful, but it is wishful, unrealistic thinking. It would be nice if the Iranians baked Bibi a delicious peach pie as well. But it was not going to happen during these negotiations. To have insisted on addressing and resolving issues unrelated to the Iranian nuclear program would have been a non-starter. And no one understands that fact better than Netanyahu.

Effective negotiation requires narrowly focused goals and objectives. Although America and its allies were united on the need for sanctions to pressure Iran to come to the bargaining table, no such consensus exists that Iran must refrain from developing a civilian nuclear energy program. In the absence of a deal, we would lose our ability to sustain the existing sanctions regime, for the sanctions have not only hurt Iran’s economy, but have cost Japan, South Korea, Europe, India, Russia and China billions of dollars in trade and commerce. These nations all have closer trade ties with Iran and will not accede to continued sanctions, especially if America walks away from an agreement that Iran is willing to sign and which accomplishes most of the objectives initially sought by the West.

What the Vienna agreement does is to greatly reduce Iran’s uranium enrichment capabilities. It prevents the design and construction of any new facilities for fifteen years and extends the time it would theoretically take for Iran to acquire enough fissile materials to create a single nuclear weapon from the existing two to three months to at least one year. The agreement does not trust the Iranians to comply, but imposes strict inspection and transparency measures. Respected nuclear experts and inspectors with years of experience who have examined the deal agree it is the most intensive inspections regime in history. The agreement requires the International Atomic Energy Agency to strictly monitor Iran’s nuclear program at every level, including mining, procurement, production, and enrichment. By enabling the international community to verify compliance at every stage of the nuclear supply chain, it ensures that we can effectively detect, deter, and prevent cheating.

The deal does not address the long list of grievances Americans and others have with Iran, but is instead designed only to prevent Iran from joining the nuclear weapons club. Although the agreement has the potential to reform and improve relations between Iran and the West and to transform the Middle East, no one is counting on it.

The administration and the other P5+1 partners have taken a practical and common sense position that strongly increases the likelihood that Iran will not obtain a nuclear capability, while allowing Iran an opportunity to shed its isolated status and to re-engage with the world community in business and commerce and other ways mutually beneficial. If Iran is stupid enough to cheat, the United States retains all options, from re-imposing sanctions to the use of military force. Those options will always remain in our arsenal.

The hard-liners in Iran are invested in the status quo and fear this deal for all of the reasons the reformers have praised it. Those within Iran who would most benefit from international legitimacy and improved relations with the West, Iranian citizens who engage in business and commerce and look favorably upon western democracies, may help eventually change how Iranians think about the costs and benefits of the regime’s destabilizing activities and regional trouble making.

As Roger Cohen of The New York Times contends, the Iran nuclear deal “must be judged on what it set out to do – stop Iran going nuclear – not on whether Iran has a likable regime (it does not) or does bad things (it does).” The deal is an impressive American diplomatic achievement that “increases the distance between Iran and a bomb as it reduces the distance between Iran and the world.” The accord essentially forces America and Iran into a relationship. As Cohen notes:
Iran is finely poised between a tough old guard forged in revolution and its aspirational, Westward-looking youth. A decade is a long time in societies in transition. It is far better to have deep American-Iranian differences – over Hezbollah, over Syria, over regional Shiite irredentism, over Iran’s vile anti-Israel outbursts – addressed through dialogue rather than have Iran do its worst as pariah.
If recent history is any guide, we should remember the state of our relations with the former Soviet Union and China during the height of the Cold War. Presidents Nixon and Reagan moved boldly with hostile and far more dangerous regimes in Beijing and Moscow. Despite much bellowing about the decline of American power, weakness and appeasement, our engagement with those long-time enemies proved transformational for bilateral relations and the world at large.

There will always be voices – chest-thumping American hardliners – who think negotiation is a sign of weakness and that military force is decisive in a way that diplomacy is not. It is an attractive position for politicians in search of cheap ways to appear tough. But it ignores the hard work of peace and non-proliferation, the complexities of the real world, and the psychology of nation states mired in historic mistrust. The Vienna agreement presents an alternative vision of American power that stresses the importance of U.S. global leadership in addressing shared problems. Congress would be remiss if it recklessly condemns a deal that advances American interests and has the potential to reduce tensions in a part of the world that desperately needs it.

It is right to worry about the Iranians and the mischief they cause in the Middle East, its hostility to Israel, its support of Assad, and its proxy wars with Saudi Arabia. But isolating Iran and treating it as a pariah did little to discourage its bad behavior. While the Vienna agreement may not change Iranian behavior for the better, there are elements of hope. As a recent editorial in The Economist suggests, although the agreement enables Iran to become a more influential player in the Middle East,
…it will also lead the country to become more open. As in China, the Iranian theocracy rules over a population that long ago lost its revolutionary zeal. . . Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, decided that being a pariah was worse for his regime than rejoining the world.  
That choice only makes sense if Iran can now attract trade and investment. The more Iran trades with the rest of the world, the more susceptible it will grow to international pressure. As the country becomes enmeshed in the global economy, interest groups will emerge within Iran’s complex, factional politics who will argue that the country’s future is better served by decent relations with foreigners than by bad ones. The more Iranians benefit from ties with the outside world, the stronger those moderating voices will become.
The Vienna agreement provides a modest glimmer of hope for a brighter future. With full membership in the international community comes implicit and subtle pressure to abide by certain norms. And although Iran will benefit economically, there will be opportunities for greater cooperation between Iran and the United States in the fight against ISIS and other regional stabilizing measures. The agreement proves that Iran and the West can coexist on terms of mutual respect, a notion that greatly undermines the position of Islamic terror organizations and strengthens reformers across the region.

But even if Iran does not shift course in an attempt to become a more responsible member of the world community, an Iran with no nuclear weapons and a greatly reduced enrichment capacity is far better than the alternative. The status quo, or no agreement, would almost guarantee that Iran has a nuclear weapon in the short term. There are no risk free options available to us. We can choose the path of diplomacy and engagement backed by strict compliance measures, or we can choose the path of bellicosity and war. The Vienna agreement is a victory for diplomacy, a better vision of foreign policy, and the hope for a brighter and safer future. If war is someday necessary, it will not be because we failed to give peace a chance.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Yadier Molina and the Art of Catching


Consider the catcher. Bulky, thought-burdened, unclean, he retrieves his cap and mask from the ground (where he has flung them, moments ago, in mid-crisis) and moves slowly again to his workplace. He whacks the cap against his leg, producing a puff of dust, and settles it in place . . . Armored, he sinks into his squat, punches his mitt, and becomes wary, balanced, and ominous; his bare right hand rests casually on his thigh while he regards . . . the field and deployed fielders, the batter, the base runner, his pitcher, and the state of the world, which he now, for a waiting instant, holds in sway. – Roger Angell, “In the Fire,” The New Yorker, March 12, 1984.
There is no position in baseball more difficult, more demanding, that requires such mental toughness, intelligence, and agility, or that is as physically punishing as that of catcher. Catchers must squat and kneel for nine tortuous innings, take foul balls off their facemask and pitches in the dirt off their groin, and endure pain and bruises to all parts of their body. They must survive long, hot summers of sweltering heat, when the sweat and dirt permanently embeds into their skin, while catching hand-numbing fastballs at 95 miles-per-hour and pitches that change directions at the last moment, and that slide and curve, sink and sail.

The catcher is also the defensive leader, the glue that holds together nine disparate, individualized parts. He is the captain, the quarterback, a second pitching coach, part-time psychologist and full-time motivator. He must know by memory the strengths and weaknesses of every batter that steps to the plate; his past tendencies, the holes in his swing, how he fares against the pitcher on the mound. Stationed behind home plate, he is the only player who faces the diamond and views the entire field of play. In calling the pitches, he must consider on each pitch and for each count the positioning of the fielders, for a slider down-and-away when the infielders anticipate the hitter to pull may result in a cheap ground ball single to the opposite field. What should have been an out, perhaps even a double play, instead turns into a hit, a run, and maybe a loss.

I was a catcher for two games once, in Little League, when I was in the fifth grade. Even then, when the game is played in its most innocent and simple forms, everything is different from behind the plate. For a brief interlude I viewed the world through the narrow openings of a metal mask strapped to my head. I was surrounded by life-threatening hazards – careless batters swinging a large wooden club inches from my skull and wildly undisciplined pitchers throwing a hard, round ball at my forehead. Between innings I unhooked my gear, anticipating my turn at bat, only to be stranded in the on-deck circle when the third out arrived. I then quickly re-strapped my shin guards and chest protector, grabbed my facemask, and again squatted behind home plate to receive the pitcher’s warm-up tosses in preparation for another inning of mental and physical combat. I repeated this drill for six innings, after which I went home and collapsed into the comfortable embrace of my living room couch, exhausted and spent.

It is partly for this reason that I appreciate the skill and toughness required of catchers. “Everything about catching . . . is harder than it looks,” wrote Roger Angell in an essay first published in The New Yorker in 1984 and re-printed in The Summer Game (Ballantine Books, 1988). “The catcher has more equipment and more attributes than players at the other positions. He must be large, brave, intelligent, alert, stolid, foresighted, resilient, fatherly, quick, efficient, intuitive, and impregnable.” Catching is the most difficult position in a demanding sport, and no one does it better at the major league level than Yadier Molina of the St. Louis Cardinals. 

Molina in pre-game walk from bullpen, Philadelphia, June 19, 2015
Molina is the best defensive catcher in all of baseball, and maybe the best catcher to have ever played the game. I say this not as a Cardinals fan – okay, maybe a little as a Cardinals fan – but really, I think if you asked most modern-day ballplayers who know the game of baseball, they would tell you the same thing. Adam Wainwright, one of the game’s best pitchers who is out this season with an Achilles injury, suggested on a Cardinals television broadcast earlier this year that, when he is old and retired, he will tell stories to his grandchildren about how he once pitched to the “greatest catcher in the history of the game.”

Jose, Bengie, and Yadi Molina
“Baseball gives every American boy a chance to excel, not just to be as good as someone else but to be better than someone else,” said baseball great Ted Williams. “This is the nature of man and the name of the game.” Molina grew up in a tiny, two bedroom house in Vega Alta, Puerto Rico, a town of less than 40,000 people. His father, Benjamin Molina, was a tools technician who worked ten hours a day at the local Westinghouse factory. The Molina family was close knit, devoutly Catholic, and loved the game of baseball.

In his younger days, Benjamin played second base for a highly skilled amateur team in Puerto Rico, becoming the all-time hits leader in the Doble-A Beísbol league. A devoted father, he shared with his three sons a love of the game. Every evening after work, Mr. Molina took the boys across the street to Jesús (Mambe) Rivera Park, a rundown, knotty ball field where horses left hoof marks in the outfield, the dirt was like beach sand, and a pointy chain link backstop sat eight feet from home plate. It was here the Molina boys learned to play the game the right way. How to hit, block balls in the dirt, field and throw, and most importantly, to understand the game and what every situation called for. Mr. Molina taught his sons the fundamentals of baseball, the importance of hard work and preparation, and the need to believe in themselves.

By the time Yadi was eleven years old, older brothers Bengie and Jose were drafted into the major leagues, both as catchers. With news clippings of their big league accomplishments plastered on his bedroom wall, Molina strove to become even better, smarter, and more accomplished than his brothers. He continued to practice with his dad and, by the time he was sixteen, Yadi was catching in the Puerto Rican amateur leagues for pitchers twice his age. As good as his brothers were – and Bengie and Jose were both star quality catchers – they told anyone who would listen that their younger brother was even better.

Drafted by the Cardinals at the age of 17, Molina was called up to the majors in 2004 as a 21 year-old backup to Mike Matheny, a four-time recipient of the Gold Glove Award and a player Molina would emulate and learn from. One day, after watching Molina in fielding drills, handling balls in the dirt and throwing strike after strike to second base, Matheny went home to his wife and said, “I just saw the kid that’s going to steal my job.” Matheny was traded to the Giants at the end of the 2004 season.

Molina quickly won a reputation for possessing one of the strongest and most accurate throwing arms of any major league catcher. Now in his twelfth major league season, Molina has thrown out 45% of all would be base stealers and picked off 52 base runners from first base. Even more impressively, for most of the past decade, opposing teams have simply shut down their running game against the Cardinals out of respect for Molina’s arm and quick release. In 2012, a Sports Illustrated poll of 306 players found that Molina was the "toughest catcher to run on."

Molina is also known for his meticulous pre-game preparation, for working closely with his pitchers to develop a game plan hours before each game. And Molina’s agility behind the plate, his quick glove and soft hands, allow pitchers to throw with confidence. "You don't ever have to worry about bouncing a ball to Yadier," Wainwright has told many young pitchers. Go ahead and make your pitch, he says, because "Yadi's going to catch whatever you throw."

To the average fan, the catcher’s work behind the plate is mostly invisible. The “best” catchers are those who can hit – Buster Posey of the Giants or Joe Mauer of the Twins. But few fans accurately discern from the stands how well a catcher handles a pitching staff or calls a game. In All-Star balloting and Hall of Fame inductions, it is what a catcher does as a hitter, his batting average, home runs and runs batted in, which matters most.

Tony LaRussa, who managed the Cardinals for the first several years of Molina’s major league career, said that he simply did not care whether Molina batted .100 or .300, because his glove, throwing arm, and ability to handle the pitchers made him the most valuable player on the team. In 2005, Molina’s first full season as catcher for the Cardinals, he batted a mediocre .256. But he threw out 64% of attempted base stealers and the Cardinals won 100 games. The next season, Molina batted .216 with a .274 on-base-percentage, numbers that usually send players packing. The Cardinals won the World Series.

That his hitting and offensive skills have steadily improved – he has hit over .300 in four of the last seven seasons and improved his career batting average to .284 -- and is now a feared hitter as much as a respected defensive catcher, has only made him that much more valuable. But Yadi’s seven consecutive Gold Gloves, awarded annually to the best defenders at each position, are what best defines him.

Molina at bat vs. Phillies, Citizens Bank Park, June 19, 2015
Perhaps what most sets Molina apart from the competition is the manner in which he handles and manages a pitching staff. Cardinal pitchers revere Molina. And many credit Molina for helping the young and talented Carlos Martinez transition from an immature, easily flustered rookie to a disciplined pitcher with a purpose. Molina has taken Martinez under his wing and developed him into one of the best starting pitchers in baseball. When Martinez loses focus and his pitches begin to sail, Molina knows when to approach the mound and what to say. He removes his head gear and looks Martinez directly in the eye, admonishing him to bear down, concentrate, and maintain his composure. When Molina finally settles behind the plate, their “talk” has inevitably restored Martinez’s focus. The world settles quietly into place.

Molina and Carlos Martinez in dialogue
Molina is a joy to watch, a great catcher and a true professional. But what I most love about Molina is his passion for the game, the loyalty and respect he commands from his teammates, the love and pride he has for his brothers, and the occasional smiles and boy-like enthusiasms he displays in the dugout and on the field.

Yadi was devastated in 2008 by the sudden loss of his father, who died of a heart attack while tending to a baseball field in Rivera Park. Yadi flew home and missed a week of play when it happened. But he and his brothers, all of whom were close with their father, knew their dad wanted them to play on, to always give their best, to be the best catchers, ballplayers, teammates, and human beings they could be. Soon, Yadi was back on the field, doing what he and his father loved best. Ever since, Yadi has worn a gold necklace with a baseball glove on it, a gift from his dad that reminds him every day of his father’s continued support and presence.

I have watched a lot of baseball in my lifetime. It is a game that lies within my soul, that allows me to remain young and passionate and, at times, insanely irrational. To feel a part of something bigger than me, to identify with a team, experience its ups and downs, exhilarations and disappointments, and the peaks and valleys of each long, drawn-out season. Some may think that I waste a lot of time on what is, after all, only a game. I cannot really argue with the logic. But what keeps me coming back night after night, what compels me to encounter the vicissitudes of the season, are the players themselves, the men who live out the dreams of my childhood, pay tribute to the memories of little league and high school ball, of school yard sandlot games and back yard whiffle ball. These are remembrances that drift with the passing of time ever so distantly. Yadi exudes an enthusiasm for baseball that reminds me of how I felt when I was twelve years old.

Yadier Molina is not a flashy player, or a glamorous one, but he is that once-in-a-lifetime player whose combination of skills and instincts are matched by a rare few. If I am lucky, Molina will remain a Cardinal for the remainder of his playing days, and I will continue to watch him on a nightly basis, guiding his pitchers through the heat of battle, throwing out base runners, blocking balls in the dirt, and leading his team to victory for years to come. And one day I will boast to a young baseball fan about when I once saw play the greatest catcher of all time. That will be something.

Molina behind the plate at Citizens Bank Park, June 19, 2015