The Night Game

The World Series was slated to start last night. On paper, the New York Yankees and the Philadelphia Phillies offer a compelling match-up. Both teams have pitching and hitting -- and stars.

The Yankees are loved by many, hated by more. Despite decades of futility, the Phillies never achieved the cult status enjoyed by the Red Sox and the Cubs, teams either jinxed or cursed or, more likely, year in and year out simply not good enough. The Phillies won their first World Series in 1980 (and waited 28 years for their second). The Yankees win a Series every week or so. The title of a history of the Phillies earns the National Book Award for integrity: Occasional Glory. The Yankees erect monuments.

Baseball has had a rough stretch. A strike and the cancellation of the 1994 Series betrayed the fans. The home run derbies of the subsequent decade supposedly restored the game's stature but ultimately proved its shame. Baseball looked the other way. Bud Selig serves as commissioner to this very day.

Baseball long has appealed to a literary set, and not only to the pretenders therein. Local philosophers await the Flying Squirrels. Statistics tell a story less lyrical. World Series viewership peaked at 44 million -- in 1978. Viewership has not passed 30 million since 1992. The past four years have seen numbers below 20 million. Massive markets in New York and Philly should produce a modest restoration, but football has become the national pastime.

Romantics remain forever haunted not only by images of Kirk Gibson pumping his fist while rounding the bases but by verse from Robert Pinsky, whose "The Night Game" captures creation: "Another time,/I devised a left-hander/Even more gifted/Than Whitey Ford: A Dodger./People were amazed by him./Once, when he was young,/He refused to pitch on Yom Kippur." There may be reasons Brett Favre lacks a bard.