I used to think Romeo and Juliet was the greatest love story ever written. But now that Im middle-aged I know better. Oh Romeo certainly thinks he loves his Juliet. Driven by hormones he unquestionably lusts for her. But if he loves her its a shallow love. You want proof Soon after meeting her for the first time he realizes he forgot to ask her for her name. Can true love be founded upon such shallow acquaintance I dont think so. And at the end when he thinks shes dead he finds no comfort in living out the remainder of his life within the paradigm of his love at least keeping alive the memory of what they had briefly shared even if it was no more than illusion or more accurately hormonal. Yes those of us watching events unfold from the darkness know she merely lies in slumber. But does he seek the reason for her life-like appearance No. Instead he accuses Death of amorousness convinced that the lean abhorred monster endeavors to keep Juliet in her present state cheeks flushed so that she might cater to his own dissolute desires. But does Romeo hold her in his arms one last time and feel the warmth of her blood still coursing through her veins Does he pinch her to see if she might awaken Does he hold a mirror to her nose to see if her breath fogs it Once twice three times a no. His alleged love is so superficial and so selfish that he seeks to escape the pain of loss by taking his own life. Thats not love but infatuation. Had they wedJuliet bearing many children bonding growing together the masks of the star-struck teens they once were long ago cast away basking in the love born of a lifetime togetherand she died of natural causes would Romeo have been so moved to take his own life or would he have grieved properly for her loss and not just his own.J. Conrad Guest author of Backstop A Baseball Love Story in Nine Innings The Cobb Legacy Januarys Paradigm One Hot January Januarys Thaw A Retrospect in Death forthcoming and 500 Miles to Go forthcoming

I had a dream about you. You were Mickey Mantle and I was a fireplace without a mantle. I didnt like baseball so I kept telling you that you could do something productive with your life like becoming a Tupperware salesman.

I had a dream about you. I was a giraffe and you were a stripper using my neck as a pole. We made a great team sort of like the 1987 Cincinnati Reds minus the Pete Rose cheating scandal. Well baseball called it cheating but I call it enterprising.

If there was magic in this world it happened within sight of the three bases and home plate. All the gems in my world that decorated the walls and floors of dragons lairs the sword hilts of privileged princes and crowns worn by emperors and kings were nothing compared to the beauty and splendor of the diamond in Wrigley Stadium. It wasnt just a yard with dirt chalk lines bases and a small hill in its center. Wrigley was a field of dreams. Dreams of eternal glory for the men who ran to the outfield who took their respective bases and prepared for battle against those who would dare enter their hallowed realm. Dreams for the kids in the stands all wanting to don a uniform kiss their moms goodbye and wield their bats as enchanted weapons destined to knock the cover off the ball. And for the adults who had already selected their lot in life Wrigley made the dreams of past innocence lost wonder and the promise that there was something inherently good still left in the world come true.Yeah corny as hell. But all true.