Baseball by Ken Burns

In this episode - Baseball by Ken Burns . . .

The signs are all around you. Leaves on the trees have started to pop. Aqua blue skies form the backdrop over an eye-pleasing manicured green diamond, spotted with bases so white they appear to glow against the brown clay of the infield. The sweet smells of spring.

Right now, it's a picture in your mind—a visit to the Ballpark. Today, April 7, 2022, the baseball season officially opens.

With 162 games to play, 30 teams step confidently into the opening day with renewed hope, allowing me to set the tone.

Baseball - by Ken Burns (Audio only segment)

Baseball fans rejoice! This is your year. Please continue to practice safe habits, get out and treasure America's national pastime.

I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

Patience – the Only First-Class Ticket

In this episode, Why Patience is the Only First-Class Ticket They say travel broadens the mind. After eight days sailing the Rhône with 140 fellow luxury vacationers, I can confirm it also tests patience, calf strength, buffet strategy, and one's tolerance for people furious that France insists on being French. Don't get me wrong—I adored this trip. The river shimmered like liquid optimism. The villages looked hand-painted. The pastries could negotiate world peace. But somewhere between Ship Horn Hello and Bon Voyage, we'd inadvertently boarded a floating behavioral research study disguised as a holiday. Our ship was less a cruise and more a ferry for the Sailors of Status. ⌚ The Wristwatch Wars Some passengers approached relaxation like yogis. Others treated leisure like a final exam with extra credit. I came to believe certain luxury watches emit ultrasonic signals that only their owners can detect. A frequency calibrated to trigger rapid movement toward any line forming...

Up the Rhône

Up the Rhône by Patrick Ball We booked a fine cruise up the Rhône — what a treat! With iPhones, lanyards, and schedules so neat. They promised us peace and a mind that would mend, But each calm beginning had chores at the end! "Now breakfast at seven! At eight, take the view!" At nine, there's a lecture on ' What Tourists Do!' At noon, there's a tasting (you must love the cheese), Then hurry to nap time — as corporate decrees! I followed that plan till my patience ran dry. The Rhône softly chuckled, "Oh my, oh my, my! You've missed half my sparkles, my ripples, my tone— You're busy pretending you've peacefully grown!" So I fired my planner and banished my clock. I tossed my agenda right off the dock! I let the wind tickle my schedule away, and drifted through hours that danced where they may. I chatted with swans, had no notion of when, I'd nibble, or nap, or go roaming again. No Wi-Fi! No meetings! No planning! No fuss! Just me and ...

When "Not Working" Becomes Your Actual Job

✨ In this episode. The Unscheduled Life: When "Not Working " Becomes Your Actual Job L'horloge du café est détraquée, le serveur s'en fiche et moi, j'essaie. Somewhere between the third sip of espresso and the second croissant, it occurs to me: doing nothing is the hardest work of all. The question on the table this morning, as I sip this slightly-too-strong French espresso, is deceptively simple: How does one define "vacation"? The conventional answer—an enduring triumph of corporate minimalism—is: "Not Working." But that tidy phrase immediately opens a philosophical can of worms. When is life working , and when is it not ? If the highest measure of vacation is simply the absence of labor, then most of our existence amounts to a relentless, unpaid internship for a job we never applied for. We've been conditioned to believe that life works when it's maximally efficient, tightly scheduled, and aimed at the shimmering horizon of "...

On The Fly

Search This Blog