LETTERS
That’s Baseball, Suzyn Will Bardenwerper’s portrait of baseball’s fading farm system [“Minor Threat,” Letter from Pulaski, October] brought me back to summer evenings in the Fifties, watching minor-league games in Wilkes-Barre, the Pennsylvania coal-mining city where I grew up. My father, uncle, older brother, a few cousins, and I would arrive early at Artillery Park. We’d get seats and look for friends; we’d fill up on stadium food and watch batting practice. That was just the prelude. Then our home team, the Wilkes-Barre Barons—named for the coal barons who scourged the land—would take to the field. Our father and our uncle dutifully kept the box scores. Which team won hardly mattered. After the game, we’d rush to the gates and wait for the players. Probably tired, definitely underpaid, likely heading for their favorite…