Baseball is a really great game. Or maybe it isn't. Maybe it's Chad Harbach's The Art of Fielding that's great; I don't know. I was led to believe that Chad Harbach's debut novel would lead me to JD Salinger, Jonathan Franzen, David Foster Wallace, Kurt Vonnegut, Mark Twain, or even Ambrose "Bitter" Bierce-levels of man-adoration. I unfortunately ended up with perhaps not even Cormac McCarthy or Philip Roth-levels of likeage. It did have its moments of brilliance. The accounts of actual baseball games, single at-bats, even practice sessions, made me long to run stadiums, do one more pull-up, and own a glove I really like, fill a 5-gallon bucket with balls, go out to the field with my buddy Rutman, pull out first base, put in a broom stick, and practice taking grounders at shortstop (despite my having played second), trying to nail the stick with my throws. I remember the lead of an ESPN.com article last year saying during some crazy last-day-of-t...