I just finished watching game 7 of the Red Sox-Yankees ALCS. It was glorious. Extra innings, won by a solo home-run, a packed Yankee stadium, emotional on-field celebration - baseball at its best.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a fan of either team. But tonight's game was so epic and grand, you couldn't help but get swept away by it. And it made me think more about my feelings for baseball.

As a child, I would watch the baseball playoffs with my family, and I associate the sound of baseball games with chilly fall nights. I used to watch baseball a lot during my anti-social teenage "leave me alone I'm watching sports"-phase. Because I grew up in northern California, my teams were the Giants and A's. I never crossed the Bay to Candlestick, but went to Oakland-Alameda coloseum for A's games. When I went to college in Los Angeles, I fell away from the sport. During grad school, baseball started to pique my interest again. There was the McGwire-Sosa home-run race. The expansion Diamondbacks started here in Phoenix. The 2001 World Series with its proximity to September 11th and high drama seventh game, 9th inning, Luis Gonzalez blooper brought back my old fondness for the sport. Even Greg got into those games, and I remember us both whooping in front of the TV as the Diamondbacks won.

Football is my favorite sport. Because Greg also enjoys it, I follow basketball the closest. But nothing beats baseball for its heart and history. It is an inherently individual sport, with stats to track every feat and flaw. There are large egos and even larger salaries. However, where football players are hidden in their uniforms, baseball players look human and exposed. Basketball players look glamourous and show off, where baseball players look gritty and show up to work.

It's hard for me to express, but I was so moved by the baseball game tonight. It was after midnight in New York, and there was not an empty seat in the house. Aaron Boone hit the game winning home-run, after having been tearfully traded from the Reds earlier in the year and never having appeared in the post-season before. The ball arcs high in the sky, like it's trying to reach orbit, and not a single individual act in football or basketball looks more beautiful. And after the individual hits the game-winning home-run, he is met at home plate by his teammates and is enveloped in the heart of the team.

I love baseball.