A sickness with no clear cure

Power hungry lunatics have launched invasions in the name of expansion for eons.

The planet has endured pandemics before. We will most assuredly endure them again.

The United States has chosen unwisely with some key elected positions from time to time. The current leader has one of the lowest approval ratings at this stage of his term, strongly suggesting that even some of his supporters are reconsidering where the rubber meets the road.

Inflation? Been there. Done that. Scars remain. New scars forming.

And with full acknowledgment that climate change has taken us to the brink of disaster — increasing numbers of scientists agree that we might now be too late to reverse course — we have also lived with wretched environmental conditions before, from industrial London smog to contaminated waters around the world.

With all of these spear tips poised at people’s heads — not unprecedented in themselves, but almost too much to bear all together — our nation really could use some good news. Something uplifting. Something comforting. Something reminding us that in life, all is not strife; there really is some joy left in the world.

You know: Baseball.

What our country did not need is one more log on the bonfire stoking stress and sorrow, loss and hopelessness. A return to better days? Not now. Not yet, anyway. Not with America's Pastime.

Blame team owners. Blame players. In our view, both are guilty.

There is no Major League Baseball season yet because of an element that is present in the pandemic breakdowns, the expansionist assaults, in climate worsening and inflation proliferation.

Greed.

It is as old as mankind and as repulsive as ever.