Every little kid who has ever played the game, who has ever run the bases at the softball park or the Little League diamond or the minor league park after the game, has dreamed of just such a moment. It is the bottom of the ninth and it is up to you to come home with the winning run. It is a race between you and the ball. You make your turn around third and head for home for all you are worth, and the sound of your feet and of the cheers and of your chest heaving are all that you can hear. You see very little--the base path, the catcher, the plate--there is no time for anything else and nothing else that matters anyway. No one has to tell you to slide, it is the only way to bring home the winning run. It is the stuff of dreams, it is, and you have known all along that if you got the chance you cold make one come true. You only have to be willing to throw yourself through the air and be covered in the dirt and dust and glory that signifies you played hard today and held nothing back at all.