A game-winning home run in the bottom of the ninth: Pitchers throwing no hitters: Chasing the all-time home-run record: Stealing home plate: A game-saving diving catch.

Yes, baseball fans it is that time of year again-April 1 has come and gone, and we are well on our way to another memorable season.

MVP Barry Bonds looks like he could hit 300 home runs this season, and Curt Schilling has already thrown a 17-strikeout game.

Whether you love it or hate it, baseball will be the topic of conversation until October.

But what is the deal with this game?

Why do we continue to buy overpriced tickets to pack into crowded stadiums selling $5 hotdogs and warm beer that have either been funded by our tax dollars or renamed after the next soon-to-go-bankrupt company? (Enron Field, anyone?)

The answer is that there is a mythical quality to this game that goes beyond the current debate over the commercialization of baseball and the salaries of its professional players.

There is something authentically American to this game that returns to a care-free age, real or imagined, when time was not an issue and all that needed to be fought over was whether that last pitch was a ball or a strike.

Countless movies and books have shared their fabled experiences with the game and the billions of baseball cards bought, collected and traded by kids of all ages who want their favorite players immortalized on a piece of cardboard.

This sense of innocence was brought to the forefront following the events on Sept. 11. The country was brought to a grinding halt as we questioned whether we could go on with our everyday lives.

Life and the game had to go on. A few days following the catastrophe, baseball, as no other sport could, ushered the country back into a sense of normalcy.

In St. Louis and in stadiums around the country, thousands of police officers, fireman and military officials marched proudly along the warming track of Busch stadium, as an enormous American flag was unfurled in center field.

A sense of pride and purpose was felt when the national anthem was sung, and later during the seventh-inning stretch when “God Bless America” replaced “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”

After the first pitch was thrown and the goose bumps began to fade over the crowd as we were lulled by the welcomed slow pace and always-exciting game unfolding on the field.

America began to move on.

Baseball seems to get to the heart of sports, a simple reliving of the joys of childhood.

The game combines so many elements of playtime-running around, easily established boundaries, no time limits, tag and-the boy’s favorite-hitting stuff with sticks.

Everyone loves going to the ballgame with dad, or playing in his or her first little league game.

I still remember the first major league baseball game I went to with my father, or the first time I walked out of the tunnel into Wrigley Field, or even the everyday occurrences of watching some amazing play on television.

There is an ease with which we make memories at the ballpark. It may have something to do with the amount of time we spend there each trip.

Baseball moves at its own pace, not the clocks, which allows you to hold a conversation, eat food and watch the action all at the same time, but still never miss out on any of it. There is also something uniquely democratic about the sport. Other sports have very specific positions and some players will only have a brief moment in the game or be a non-factor.

In baseball, although each position is unique to the player’s skills, everyone on every play has the ability to be instrumental.

All nine players have an equal chance to hit, but also an equal chance to screw up. You are together with eight teammates, but by yourself in your position.

The sense of fair play and equal opportunity are the essence of the game and the core of our country’s values.

The one thing that baseball has been able to avoid and that has allowed it to maintain its true spirit is the focus on the game and not the spectacle.

There is no half-time show; there is no one else on the field during the game except the players and the grounds crew-between innings.

With the exception of the mascot running on the field to befuddle the umpire or the T-shirt girls shooting hotdogs and free stuff out of CO2 cannons, the game runs at its own pace, meaning whenever the pitcher finally decides to pitch or when the batter gets back in the box after adjusting himself.

It is these idiosyncrasies that give baseball its personality and instructs us in patience.

So, whether you are a purist who wants to chart each player’s progress on your personal score card, or the weekend warrior who wants a night out with friends at the ballpark, the game offers an opportunity for the youngest kids with the their ball gloves or the 21 and older kids with the beer cups.

This is a sport that brings out the kid in everyone and will continue making memories for years to come.

And hoping not to sound too sentimental or clich?, “Play ball!”