Thank you for your thoughtful letter. As commissioner of Major League Baseball, I take its subject quite seriously. Regarding the identity of the “father” of baseball, Ronald, your little friends are wrong. They have affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. There is an Abner Doubleday.
How dreary would the world be if there were no Abner Doublday! You’d have to ascribe baseball’s existence to the slow evolution from earlier games that originated in Europe. And while that explanation might be more “plausible” and “probable”, who wants to do all the research to prove it?
There would be no childlike faith, no poetry, no romance, no belief in the crackpot theories of early-20th century xenophobic racists determined to prove baseball was a purely American game! No belief in the inherent superiority of human failings over technology that could easily fix such errors! No blaming of the players’ union for everything bad in the sport!
Not believe in Abner Doubleday! You might as well not believe that George Washington cut down a cherry tree! Which technically, he did not, but since I was told so when I was a small child, I really don’t appreciate being instructed otherwise by a bunch of eggheads.
Just because we have never seen Abner Doubleday, or any evidence he had anything to do with baseball, does not mean he does not exist. The most real things in the world are those that no one can see. Like a purple zebra. Just try to not think of a purple zebra now. You can’t. I’ve proven my point.
You could tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that have ever lived, could tear apart. Also, why would you tear apart a baby’s rattle? That’s messed up.
No Abner Doubleday! Thank God he lives, and lives forever in the hearts of everyone too lazy to think about accepted myths too much. A thousand years from now, nay, ten times ten thousand years, he will continue to make glad the heart of dumbasses.