America's Game: Why Baseball Still Belongs to the Red, White and Blue

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal..."

When the Continental Congress adopted those words on July 4, 1776, they weren't thinking about baseball.

After all, there wasn't a baseball game to be found.

But it's hard to imagine that nearly 250 years later, another American tradition would come to embody so many of the ideals those words represent—fairness, opportunity, perseverance, hope, and the simple joy of coming together.

James Earl Jones captured it perfectly in *Field of Dreams* when he reminded us that through all the years, baseball has remained one of America's constants.

He was right.

Wars have come and gone.

Presidents have changed.

Generations have grown up.

Technology has transformed nearly every aspect of our lives.

Yet every summer, somewhere in America, a child pulls on an oversized glove for the very first time.

Some traditions don't just survive.

They help define us.

There are faster sports.

There are louder sports.

There are sports with bigger television ratings.

But none has become so deeply woven into the fabric of America.

Long before launch angles, exit velocity and instant replay, kids learned baseball the old-fashioned way.

A parent walked into the backyard carrying two gloves.

"Want to have a catch?"

Neighborhood streets became ballparks.

A manhole cover became home plate.

The storm drain was first base.

Jenny's hedges were a ground-rule double, while hitting Dr. Shapiro's picture window was an automatic out—and probably the end of the game.

Little League continues that tradition today.

Volunteers drag the infield before sunrise.

Parents keep score with a pencil. (or Game Changer, I'm old but I do keep up with technology)

Grandparents cheer just as loudly for a routine ground ball as they do a towering home run.

The uniforms are often too big.

The dreams never are.

For generations, one advertising slogan managed to capture America in just a handful of words.

"Baseball, Hot Dogs, Apple Pie and Chevrolet."

It wasn't really about selling cars.

It was about selling a feeling.

A family road trip.

A backyard barbecue.

A glove in the trunk.

A transistor radio broadcasting the hometown game while hamburgers sizzled on the grill.

Even today, no sporting event feels more like a family reunion than a day at the ballpark.

The smell of fresh-cut grass.

The crack of the bat.

The organ music.

The scorecard folded neatly into your back pocket.

The vendor shouting, "Hot dogs!"

You may forget the final score.

You'll never forget your first game.

Few traditions connect baseball and America quite like the ceremonial first pitch.

President William Howard Taft started the tradition in 1910.

Since then, presidents from both political parties have walked to the mound, waved to the crowd, and thrown a baseball toward home plate.

For one brief moment, politics disappears.

The cheers aren't Republican or Democrat.

They're simply American.

In a country that often finds reasons to disagree, baseball still finds reasons to bring us together.

No moment better illustrates baseball's place in American life than the days following September 11, 2001.

No one believed baseball could erase the pain.

It couldn't.

But it reminded us that life would continue.

On September 21, Shea Stadium became something much larger than a baseball field.

Mike Piazza stepped to the plate in the eighth inning against the Braves.

His towering home run into the left-field seats gave the Mets the lead.

The roar that followed wasn't simply about baseball.

It was relief.

Hope.

Healing.

Weeks later, President George W. Bush walked to the mound at Yankee Stadium before Game 3 of the World Series.

Wearing a bulletproof vest beneath his jacket, he fired a perfect strike.

America needed that moment.

Baseball delivered it.

Every Independence Day produces memories.

But for Mets fans, one game stands above the rest.

July 4, 1985.

The Mets and Braves took the field in Atlanta expecting to finish before the fireworks.

Instead, they played through one fireworks show.

Then another.

The game lasted 19 innings, finally ending at 3:55 in the morning on July 5

The Braves' organist exhausted his playlist.

Fans slept in the stands.

Players looked as though they had played a doubleheader.

Then came one of baseball's most improbable moments.

Atlanta pitcher Rick Camp—owner of exactly one career home run before that night—launched an unbelievable game-tying homer in the 18th inning.

It was baseball at its wonderfully unpredictable best.

Fortunately for Mets fans, Howard Johnson and the Amazin offense answered in the 19th, winning 16-13 in one of the wildest games ever played.

Only baseball could turn Independence Day into an all-night celebration.

New York has enjoyed other unforgettable Fourth of July baseball moments as well.

On July 4, 1983, Yankees left-hander Dave Righetti authored one of the franchise's greatest performances, throwing a no-hitter against the defending American League champion Boston Red Sox. The 4-0 masterpiece ended with Yankees fans celebrating twice—first the final out, then the fireworks.

Even one of baseball's most influential owners shares the holiday. George Steinbrenner, "The Boss," was born on July 4, 1930. Love him or loathe him—as many Mets fans happily did—there's something fitting about one of the sport's most patriotic and larger-than-life figures sharing America's birthday.

From Righetti's no-hitter to the Mets' unforgettable all-night marathon, the Fourth of July has produced memories that remind us why baseball feels like the soundtrack of an American summer.

Baseball has always reflected America.

Sometimes it has challenged America to become better.

Jackie Robinson didn't simply change baseball.

He helped change the country.

Roberto Clemente reminded us that greatness isn't measured solely by statistics but by compassion.

Ted Williams interrupted a Hall of Fame career to serve his country in two wars.

Countless players have answered military service before answering the call to the bullpen.

Military flyovers.

Color guards.

The singing of "God Bless America."

Standing ovations for veterans.

No other sport embraces civic tradition quite the way baseball does.

Baseball and America's founding seem forever linked.

The game celebrates independence, teamwork and the belief that everyone gets a chance.

Every batter begins with a clean count.

Every team starts spring training tied for first.

Every Opening Day offers hope.

Even baseball names sometimes echo our nation's history.

There have been Hancocks, Franklins, Jeffersons, Adamses, Morrises, Clarks, Taylors, Lees, Wilsons and Rosses who have worn Major League uniforms, their surnames reminding us of the men whose signatures helped launch a nation.

Coincidence?

Absolutely.

But baseball has always had a funny way of reminding us that America's history and baseball history often seem to travel the same basepaths.

The Declaration of Independence tells us that we are endowed with the unalienable rights of Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Every baseball fan might argue there's a fourth.

The pursuit of the pennant.

Every spring begins with hope.

Every Opening Day convinces us this could be the year.

Every season both tests and teaches us patience. Some more than others (see 2026).

Even the greatest hitters fail six and a half out of ten times.

Failure isn't the end.

It's simply your next trip to the batter's box.

Maybe that's why baseball still feels so American.

It rewards perseverance.

It celebrates second chances.

It reminds us that tomorrow's game always offers another opportunity.

Every Fourth of July, fireworks celebrate the birth of the United States.

Every summer evening, baseball celebrates the people who continue writing its story.

Immigrants.

Teachers.

Factory workers.

Doctors.

Construction workers.

Soldiers.

Grandparents keeping score with a pencil.

Parents teaching a child how to throw a curveball—or at least trying.

Little Leaguers dreaming about wearing a big-league uniform someday.

The Declaration of Independence proclaimed that all are created equal.

Baseball has spent generations striving to live up to that promise.

Not perfectly.

But persistently.

One inning.

One player.

One family.

One generation at a time.

As fireworks paint the night sky this Fourth of July and another seventh-inning stretch echoes across America, remember that baseball isn't our national pastime simply because it's old.

It isn't America's game because it's the most popular.

It's America's game because, for generations, it has reminded us who we are, where we've been, and what we can become together.

Life.

Liberty.

And yes...

The pursuit of the pennant.

Happy Birthday, America.

Grab a Hot Dog, have a slice of Apple Pie, get into a Chevy and

Let's Play Ball.