Baseball is supposed to be just a game.

The movie “Bull Durham” described baseball as “…. a very simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose…”

If America’s pastime was as simple as catching, throwing and hitting, millions of us wouldn’t have been glued to our television, phone or radio station listening to every minute of the World Series games.

The relationship athletes have with their fans borders on the religious. Athletes, especially baseball players, are held to a high standard, and their fans expect Herculean efforts from the team they back.

Grown men guard their baseball card collections from their childhood more than they do their Social Security number. We walk around with our favorite player’s name on the back of our T-shirts. Most gimmee caps have a team insignia on the front, and those hats are seldom removed.

Sporting memorabilia doesn’t fully explain this country’s fascination with baseball. Our connection goes much deeper because baseball’s more like life than any other sport.

At the entry level, baseball’s a pretty easy game to learn. Somebody throws the ball and somebody hits it. And somewhere out behind the pitcher, somebody catches the ball.

But the game ultimately depends on relationships. The infielders have to work in tandem if they hope to make a double play. The shortstop depends on the outfielder to get the ball in before the opponent gets to second or third base.

Of particular interest is the relationship between the pitcher and the catcher. The pitcher has to trust that the catcher’s making the right call and that the player crouching behind home plate is going to catch what’s thrown their way. Life’s the same way – we depend on others to understand our signals and then follow through.

Baseball also requires guts. Players have to live right on the edge if they’re going to steal a base, especially if they want to steal home. Taking a chance is risky in baseball, but it’s even more risky in life. Still, without taking a chance we risk either losing it all or getting ahead.

Errors are counted in baseball. So are they in life. A team can suffer a humiliating loss but come back the next night and go from the goat to the champ.

Batters have numerous opportunities at the plate to get on base, including not one strike but three. That’s three chances, and that’s more chances than many of us get in life.

What’s great about baseball is if you strike out in the first inning, you’ll be back at the plate with a clean slate in the same game.

We cheer for the homerun slugger, but the game is ultimately a team sport. Without everyone’s cooperation, there’s no way a team can win. We can rack up accomplishments, but most of us need the support of our family or friends to make victories possible and sweeter.

And so it goes in life. All of us make mistakes and think we’re down for the count. We all wish we had another chance to make things right.

Baseball shows us that we’ll get another chance to connect with the ball. We’ll get another chance to step up and show the world what we’ve got.

Every once in a while, we swing for the fences when there’s people counting on us, whether it’s in life or the bases are loaded, and bring in the runs. We succeed one base, one goal and one run at a time.

A simple game? I think not. In life, just like in baseball, there’s nothing better than stepping up to the plate, knowing you could strike out but stepping up anyway.

And when that bat connects with the ball, when we reach a personal goal or when we come down the stretch to score, the hard work pays off.

It’s that simple.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.