Topic: "Degree of Separation"(6)
In that magical season of 1980, the Philadelphia Phillies (then Frodo's favorite team), ended the frustrations of multiple generations by finally winning a World Series. Frodo danced and sang when Pete Rose caught the pop-foul that fell out of Bob Boone's glove into his own. His heart raced with the long strides of Garry Maddox in center-field, who patrolled all of the earth not covered in water. He dried his palms on his official Phillies t-shirt while Steve Carlton dueled with mere mortals at the plate, and Mike Schmidt drew blood from the sweat of pitchers stupid enough to pitch to the best hitter of the time. Not forgotten was the wisdom and the brilliance of Dallas Green, manager of the miracle, on this, his finest of days.
It seems quixotic to now refer to the very worst of days, that which is yet known as "9/11," as Frodo apparently switches topics, and notes the birth on that day of a little girl amidst the suffering and the loss which mark our lives. Tragedy apparently, like triumph, is sometimes registered in someone's idea of heaven by the convergence of joy and sadness. How awful, thinks Frodo, when he hears a distraught father note that it was his daughter, born that terrible day, who passed from our world in a hail of gunfire in a shopping center in Tucson, Arizona just a few short hours ago.
The circle, yet unbroken, is completed when Frodo discovers that the little girl was the grand-daughter of Dallas Green.
Somehow, winning a couple of baseball games will never seen quite so important to either Dallas Green, or to Frodo.