COMMENTARY
I’ve always missed baseball in the times when we expected it to be there, when we were used to it being there and it was absent.
When Major League Baseball players went on strike on June 12, 1981, I was 11 years old and could not comprehend . . . well, any of it. That there would be a summer without the Red Sox. That baseball players would decide not to play. (I didn’t quite grasp the tactics of collective bargaining then.) That the heroes of my baseball cards were dressed in suits rather than Red Sox jerseys in the sports section of the Globe.