Not only politicians, but also sports figures will be out on the rubber chicken circuit soon, telling people how they became successful lifting weights, abusing their bodies, and beating the tar out of a horsehide-covered wad of twine with a limb off a hickory tree. They'll do it with great emotion, too, recounting all the plays that everybody has already seen and convincing you that they won because of skill and determination. It's easy to convince people that you could have done something great just after you've done it. These guys are born modest, too. Not all over, of course, just in spots.

The problem with these great, larger-than-life figures is that they are not nearly as inspirational from behind the lectern as they are at home plate. The story is told of a great baseball pitcher who threw away his arm and took up evangelism. He drew mighty crowds because of his former fame, but the magic wore off after the first inning when many wished he'd throw away his tongue.

"I heard him preach," said an old sports buff, "and if he'd have quit after 10 minutes, I'd have given him every cent I had. Would've hocked the family farm to raise some more.

"But he kept on swingin' his arms like he was switch hittin'. After 20 minutes, I decided to just drop in my spare change in the collection plate."

"Did he finally win you over?" asked a listener.

"By the time he finished, it was extra innings. When he passed the plate, I took out $2 just for spite."

Ah, yes, friends, fame is a vapor, success temporary; even the mighty Casey must occasionally strike out.

There are two men on base and two switch hitters are up. Al and George W. Or is it George W. and Al? Somebody could load the bases and somebody could make a grand slam or strike out. Or, more likely, somebody could steal home. Wait, they're not even on the same team. Oh well, it's only a game but it's taxing to think of it.