When I was a teenager, MLB games provided a daily escape for me during the summer. I could lose myself in the counts to each batter, the vignettes about each player's life, and the ebb and flow of baseball games all summer. When baseball games were not on the television, I could bury myself in the baseball articles in Sports Illustrated, the New York Mets Inside Pitch or read about baseball in various other periodicals. In some respects, baseball provided a way of escaping my complicated world into the National Pastime, where each game would end within nine innings, if extra innings were not required, I could count on the calm and soothing announcing of the games and there were rules to be followed. Oh, if life were so simple!