The fans did not even take notice of themselves. Playersand spectators merged into a single throng of fools, ignorant of anythingbut their own selfish...tunnel vision. It's the price of free agency. Theindividual now supersedes the team. The days of cooperative play belong inan era of black and white television and untainted records. Everyone is asuperstar.Yet somehow, the games must go on.There was no public address system, no booming announcer, and no startinglineups.But somehow, an inaudible. “First,” I said. “I’ll be in South America two weeks from today, so Elizabeth and Henry will run the Rap Session. Please try to keep the mayhem to a minimum!”Everyone laughed and I waited for the laughter to subside before continuing.“We recently bought a Panasonic Digital Palmcorder that I’m going to have Kara set up to record the Rap Session, so I don’t miss anything. If anyone objects, please let one of us know.”Nobody voiced an objection at that point, so I said, “Next, Holly should. More

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