In the age of steroids, and overpaid players, and strikes, and egos that are bigger than the national debt, it’s easy to give up on the game of baseball—especially given the cloud of suspicion that hangs over Barry Bonds. Once considered America’s national past-time, baseball has become one of America’s discarded hobbies.

There’s enough blame to go around—from major league officials’ slow reactions to steroid usage to players who don’t have any knowledge of or appreciation for the generations of players who went before them. But the game has always had problems. They just weren’t brought to the light as quickly, or sometimes ever, because the sports media wasn’t as expansive as it is now.

If you’ve lost interest in baseball for any of the above reasons, then I’d encourage you to pick up a copy of a book called The Soul of Baseball: A Road Trip Through Buck O’Neil’s America by Joe Posnanski. O’Neil, the face of the Negro Leagues Museum in Kansas City and a former Negro Leagues player and manager, saw more changes in the game than you or I will ever see.

In fact, he played at a time when African-American players were denied the chance to play in the major leagues simply because they were of African-American descent. If anybody had a right to give up on the game, it would have been O’Neil, or one of the hundreds of other players in the Negro Leagues. But they loved the game too much to give up on it.

Buck O’Neil died last October at the age of 94, but right up until the end, you could find him sitting in the same seat at Kauffman Stadium in Kansas City most summer nights. He loved baseball—even in its current form. In Posnanski’s book he said that before one particular game in Houston, O’Neil came across a shoeshine man and before long they were talking baseball.

Here’s part of their exchange:

“You going to the game today?” Buck asked.

“Naw. I don’t go to baseball games anymore. It’s changed.”

Buck smiled and put his arm around the man. “It hasn’t changed,” he said. “We’ve changed. We got older. You ought to go see a ballgame. You’re a baseball fan, man. Do your heart good. Help you get young.”

“You’re right, Buck. You’re right. I’ll do it.”

“You do it.”

If you’ve given up on the game, in the spirit of Buck O’Neil, I say, give it another chance because you’re missing out on so much.

Recently, I had a conversation with a scout for the Baltimore Orioles, during which he said that baseball is a game of subtleties. Something is always going on, even when it doesn’t appear that way. Batters are tweaking their stances. Pitchers are trying new deliveries. Base runners are trying to “read” the defense. Fielders are continually changing their positions based on hitters’ tendencies. And coaches are always giving signs to their players.

You don’t have to be a hardcore baseball fan to enjoy the game though. As a young boy, I can remember my mom taking my sister and me to Rosenblatt Stadium to watch the Omaha Royals. We didn’t go often, but it was always a treat when we did. I remember a few players from those days, but I remember so much more than that. I remember the crack of the bat, the diving catches, the cotton candy, the bad weather and the good, and the laughter my family shared.

Who could ask for more?