Baseball is only a game, a game of inches and a lot of luck.

The words of Bob Feller—“Baseball is only a game, a game of inches and a lot of luck. During a time of all-out war, sports are very insignificant.”—rise like a solemn bell tolling through history. Feller, himself a legendary pitcher, understood that even the most beloved contests of men, the dramas of sports, are but shadows compared to the thunder of war. In times of peace, the clash of teams and the roar of crowds may feel like the heartbeat of a nation. Yet when the world is torn by fire, when nations struggle for survival, the bat, the ball, and the stadium lights are revealed as fleeting joys—insignificant before the storm.

To call baseball only a game is not to belittle its beauty, but to place it rightly within the great order of life. A game, however grand, is bound by lines drawn on a field, by rules agreed upon by men. Yet war knows no bounds. It redraws nations, claims lives, alters destinies. The ball may bounce an inch this way or that, and fortune may decide a victory; but in war, an inch may mean life or death, freedom or bondage, victory or ruin for entire peoples. Feller reminds us that we must never mistake the joy of sport for the gravity of life-and-death struggles.

Consider Feller’s own story. In 1941, at the height of his fame, he left the pitcher’s mound to enlist in the Navy the very day after Pearl Harbor was attacked. He was 23 years old, already a star destined for the Hall of Fame, yet he laid aside the cheers of the crowd to serve aboard the USS Alabama. For him, the crack of the bat and the glory of championships faded in the face of global conflict. The war demanded men of courage, and he answered. His choice was proof that even the brightest lights of sport are dim compared to the call of duty and sacrifice.

History has countless such lessons. During the Peloponnesian War, Athens and Sparta paused their Olympic rivalries, for even the sacred games bowed before the brutality of conflict. Soldiers who once raced in the stadiums took up spear and shield, and the laughter of games was replaced by the clash of iron. The ancients knew that while games built discipline and pride, war determined whether a city would endure or fall into ashes. The playing field trains the body; the battlefield tests the soul.

Yet there is another wisdom in Feller’s words: though sports are insignificant during war, they still carry value in peace. The games remind us of the joy of life, of community, of striving together for glory without bloodshed. Sports are the rehearsal of courage, the practice of perseverance, the symbol of unity. But their true worth is revealed only when life is secure enough to afford them. Without peace, they cannot flourish. Thus, sports are not the foundation of life, but the crown upon its head—fragile, beautiful, and dependent on deeper stability.

The emotional power of this teaching strikes at the heart: do not confuse distraction with destiny. Celebrate games, but know their limits. Honor athletes, but honor more the soldier, the protector, the healer, the one who stands guard so that the games may continue. It is only because some give their lives in war that others may one day return to the stadium and cheer. This balance must never be forgotten, lest we become blind to the sacrifices that sustain our freedoms.

For the seeker of wisdom, the lesson is clear: remember what truly matters. In times of trial, focus not on trivial contests but on the survival and flourishing of life itself. Do not waste your energy exalting the fleeting while neglecting the eternal. But in times of peace, cherish games and celebrations, for they are signs of the blessings bought by sacrifice. Balance joy with reverence, and gratitude with celebration.

Thus, Bob Feller’s words resound like a trumpet from the past: Baseball is only a game. War decides the fate of nations. Let us honor sports for what they are—a source of joy and unity—but never mistake them for the pillars of existence. And let us never forget those who laid aside glory on the field to fight for survival on the battlefield, so that we, in our time, may once again cheer beneath the lights, free and secure.