There’s something uniquely American about the first pitch of a baseball game. It’s the start of an untimed contest, in which anything can happen; a wild pitch or a home run.

Enjoying a game with my grandparents today, I cannot think of a more representative act of our time. Relatively speaking, we live in a world of luxury.

What a fantastical universe, in which amongst the billions of galaxies, stars, and celestial bodies, a red-stripped white ball exists on a baseball diamond. What else can we do but play ball.