The game looks for a place to go on nights such as these, late in October, when there are a couple teams left and just a few dozen men to choose from.
The top step of one dugout or the other, sometimes. The arm of a lefty with a past whose heart beats slow. Maybe it waits on the random bat barrel, just for the fun of it, to keep the conversation vigorous.
Or, it just goes to the best player on the field.
He’ll make the catch hanging in the air. He’ll outrun the baseball to a base.