Yes, yes, yes — I love everything about this! Your descriptions of Diaz so reminded me of my love and hero worship of Roberto Clemente, another Puerto Rican, when I was just a kid. The way he carried himself — the way he ducked his head as he entered the dugout. The beauty and the fury and the grace of how he played the game. He was such a proud man, but also very serious, and understood his role as a game-changer for latinos in the game. One of my proudest moments, for him, was after he had taken charge of the 1971 World Series, and carried that ballclub to the World Series victory, when they interviewed him right after the final game, he spoke to his homeland in Spanish, before he spoke to the rest of America in English. When his plane went down, I learned that, yes, there is crying in baseball. I get choked up every time I even think about it — there is so much love to be found in the game of baseball. I get it.