There is something about a filthy and stained baseball uniform that really gets me hot. Especially when said uniform swathes the body of an Atlanta Braves player. Watching the adorably dimpled Andruw Jones plow up center field in pursuit of a seemingly unreachable fly ball, catch it, and sleekly rocket the ball with absolute precision for a play at home plate is enough to make this girl thrash about and beg for more. I grew up watching the likes of Andruw, Chipper Jones, and Javy Lopez play for Atlanta's AAA team, the Richmond Braves. All is sated in my life when I'm perched along the third baseline, overpriced beer in hand, root-root-rooting for the home team. Very much a family tradition, my affection for the game of baseball is no secret. I can even manage to overlook the offensively extravagant player salaries. Baseball has to be the most ethnically diverse of all professional sports, uniting players and fans of all ethnicities and walks of life. Baseball is sexy and romantic, inspiring and unifying.

But all that baseball is, there is one thing it should never be: political. Baseball is where I and other loyal fans turn for respite from all of the bureaucracy and bullshit in our lives, where we're able to completely disregard unfulfilling careers, unpaid bills and underhanded political agendas aimed at disrobing us of our simplest, yet most essential, freedoms. So you can probably envision my outraged bewilderment when I learned of Battin' 1000, the "unique national pro-life initiative" founded by the American Life League.

The American Life League (ALL), which claims to be the "nation's largest grass roots pro-life educational organization," is located in Stafford, Virginia, a literal stone's throw across the Rappahannock River from my neighborhood (okay, so maybe I couldn't throw a damned rock across the Rappahannock; Gary Sheffield could). ALL, following Catholic teachings, has been spouting the pro-life message since the late 1970's and has now corrupted my beloved baseball.

So what's the big deal about this particular group exercising its simple and essential freedoms of assembly and speech? Well, nothing, I suppose, if you find baseball or the reproductive rights debate loathsome. In a crusty conservative nutshell, ALL has solicited endorsements from nearly 100 baseball personalities, including Hall of Famers, active players, and even a team owner in an effort to raise $1 million for the initial planning of ALL's new educational center, Campus for Life. The center aspires to be the be-all-end-all anti-abortion summer camp, sponsoring workshops and online trainings to arm those wanting to spread the anti-abortion message to folks like you and me. The fundraiser works a little like this: a participant (for a donation of $1000) can join one of Battin' 1000's 30 teams. Each team is lead by a prominent "individual of pro-life persuasion in each of the 30 major league markets". Each local team will get to work with at least one of the high profile endorsers. Major League Baseball denies any official affiliation with Battin' 1000, like that matters.

Battin' 1000's aforementioned team owner participant is none other than Jerry Colangelo, owner of the Arizona Diamondbacks. He created a big ol' stink recently when he rented a conference room at Bank One Ballpark for the organization, and the public outcry was deafening, probably because they paid the $258 million bill for the construction of ballpark. Ballpark officials responded that the building is for public use, and if you can pay the charge for renting one of their day-use rooms, it's all yours. I just wonder if they'd proffer the same perspective if the KKK wanted to borrow a spot there to host one of their gatherings.

And, you know, I really have no issue with groups working to end abortions. I don't know any pro-choice advocate who feels that abortions are a good thing--a necessary practice presently, but far from a good thing. You'd think that an organization like ALL, railing against the reproductive rights agenda, would be in favor of making effective and affordable contraception accessible to everybody, right? That's definitely a means to render abortion unnecessary, right? Think again. ALL describes contraception as facilitating "the kind of relationships and even kind of attitudes and moral character that are likely to lead to an abortion." No, don't worry, you read that correctly. Go ahead, read it again, let the ridiculousness of such a generalization sink in. ALL considers taking the birth control pill a chemical abortion. And ALL even blasts in vitro fertilization, claiming that it interferes with God's intent. If God intended for you and your partner to become pregnant, you would. Otherwise, tough luck. So, not only does ALL have beef with you have the choice to staying prego, but even with you trying to get knocked up in any other way than good old fashioned knockin' boots.

And the skeletons continue to creep out of ALL's closet. They're even endorsed by radicals and crazies like Jerry Falwell and Father Norman Weslin, known for his invasions of abortion clinics and for being a long time buddy of James Kopp, the man who was indicted for assassinating Dr. Bernard Slepian, an abortion practitioner. These are precisely the associations that compromise the spirit of major league baseball.

The former and current players who support ALL's Campus for Life effort are doing so on their own accord, I know. Part of me is even glad that they have an opinion on such a topic, unlike so many people these days who are complacent and ignorant of current affairs. One endorser, Hall of Famer Tommy Lasorda, has publicly stated that he made a mistake in joining the initiative, claiming his mistook the fundraiser as a scholarship fund for baseball programs. I forgave Tommy for those silly Slim Fast commercials, so I think I may be able to forgive him for this. When Lasorda attempted to have his name removed from Campus For Life's fundraiser line-up, they told him he'd have to buy his way out of it. ALL plays hardball, my friends.

As I was reading through some commentary on the Ms. Magazine website, I stumbled upon a writer commenting on her search for information about Battin' 1000. She stated that she had performed a query of the terms "pro-life" and "baseball," and came upon a link to an interview with President Bush, former owner of the Texas Rangers. That made me chuckle, but left me scratching my head and feeling fearful of what may come to be if ALL and Battin' 1000 are successful. The fundraiser ends with the baseball season, and let's hope this is the last we see of this marriage of political agendas and baseball.