Not long ago I came across a postcard that my father had received from the New York Giants’ baseball team. The card includes the date and time my father was to report for a tryout with the major league club. As I stared at the card I thought about my relationship with my father. No matter how contentious it might become, and it did at times, baseball always provided a middle ground. We could lose ourselves in the joys of the game, its intricacies, and subsequently, the pleasure of each other’s company.