The Cathedral

Every ballpark has a moment like this one: a short walk up a dim concrete ramp, and then the field is simply there, greener than anything outside.

Baseball has long been written about as church, and the best-known version is A. Bartlett Giamatti's 1977 essay "The Green Fields of the Mind," which opens, "It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart." Giamatti, a Yale professor who went on to become president of Yale and then commissioner of baseball, was writing about the end of the season. The picture sits at the other end of the story: the gates open, the light gold, the game still ahead.

Part of what makes the old parks feel this way is how few remain. Fenway Park opened in 1912 and Wrigley Field in 1914, and both still host games. Baseball is also the one major American team sport with no game clock. It ends when someone wins, not when time runs out.

The view is through a weathered passage with handrails on both sides. Beyond it lie the infield dirt, a mowed green outfield, a tall dark-green wall, light towers and old brick, with a few birds crossing a sky going gold.