What is it that Mr. Berra supposedly uttered once upon a time in the land of the Imperial Yankee?

Oh yeah:  “it ain’t over til it’s over”.

Wise man Yogi.  Smart bear too.

Some things are fairly certain in baseball.  You usually have either 24 or 27 outs in which to complete the game and claim victory or defeat.  Sometimes it’s less if the weather does not cooperate but then it might only be suspended or postponed and not completed.  Sometimes it’s more as needed until it is over- when it’s over.  And only the home guy can end it with one swing.

You can be up by a little or a lot- down by the same or different measures.  It might be close and nip and tuck.  If it’s early in the game then there is time to come back.  There is also time to blow a big lead.  Even in a single inning.

And while six outs define an official full inning by the rules it only provides the boundaries and does nothing to describe all that happens within.  That is why we play, why we coach, why we watch.

Like baseball other sports can end in a tie in regulation but almost all have a mechanism to extend the playing time and offer a chance to get things finally decided.  Hockey shootouts aside (does anyone like those damn things?) there is the inescapable element of a ticking clock that will, in the end, figure large in the final outcome.   If you are down, if you are behind, then time can indeed run out on you.

But consider a game of pure and beautiful sport-yes, that is baseball you cheeseheads- and a seemingly endless and cloudless and warm day on which to play it, under the sun or under the lights.  Ah, there is always hope to win right up until that last out is recorded or the home guy brings in the winner.

Two out rally?  You betcha!

Walk-off homerun?  Watch it soar and hear the roar.

A fastball up in the zone, a diving shortstop on a hot liner, a quick-handed corner man at third, a dig at first, a leaping center-fielder to maybe bring it back in from over the fence…

A.J. Pierzynksi deciding to just take off after a wagging strike three.

The possibilities are endless.

And even when you are up, in the same inning you may find yourself down yet again.  But you’re the home guy and the final say may be yours.

Who knows the score of the game when it comes to Mother Earth or even what inning it is?  Could the game be called because of rain?  Sure, I suppose that it could and there are many out there who, when they see the clouds forming, head swiftly for the concourse or even the exit.  But maybe, just maybe the storm blows over or the tarp gets down in time and the rain is not enough to wash things out…and then the game goes on.  And where are you?

We think I think that we know the score where our country is concerned.  There have been a lot of good pitches and missed strikes, successful sacrifices and caught foul pops, swiped bases and smooth pickoffs, successful hit and runs, Splendid Splinters and Babes and Hammerin Hanks and Say Hey Kids and Micks and Caseys and Iron Mans and Denkingers and Buckners and Joyces and Bartmans and Black Sox and long, high balls that looked like they may never come down.

There is always hope, another chance to bring that man on second home and claim final victory.  We just have to keep making sure we have more guys crossing the plate than they do.  Final raps are nice too.

In the end, that’s how you win.  Big ball or small ball, the final score on the board is what matters.

And it ain’t over til it’s over.