In baseball, as in life and death, death obviously being the least cherished part of life ... hope and faith are critical to success, as well as having a guaranteed high-paying job at your father's car dealership when you graduate like I did.  Take advantage of these difficult times because if you have hope and faith and that plush job, the plush job is a key part to this, if you are smart and tenacious and dedicated and willing to sacrifice, like eating college cafeteria food twice in four years,  you can make a difference and make this a better world. If not for those around you, a better world for yourself at the expense of others.  And don't be afraid of failure.  Failure has gotten me to where I am today, wearing a silly robe, hat with a tassel and acting like I have a clue.

Why baseball?  I say why not baseball?  It provides a window to escape from the tedium and difficulty of ordinary life, and by ordinary I refer to you, not me, because I have led an extraordinary life, without any advantage other than a guaranteed life of privilege and ease, I still managed to make a success of myself despite the complete lack of obstacles before me.  But back to baseball.  It gives teensy-weensy, little people like you, hope and faith, an opportunity to live vicariously, and thanks to steroids, intravenously through the boys of summer."

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would become baseball commissioner, unless of course being the greediest owner in baseball, no mean feat I might add given the rapacious pack of wolves the Lards of Baseball are, gave me a leg up on more qualified applicants who didn't squeeze every last nickel out of Milwaukee fans like I did with a large dollop of glee every dead-last place season I inflicted on them.  I dared to live my dream, and you might ask what a dream is, and I understand, dreams are what rich people have instead of the hum-drum despair of the middle-class.  As a student here I had no idea how I was going to make that happen or frankly what a baseball life was, all I had was an allowance, a nice car, and a trust fund.  Let me tell you, that's no walk in the ballpark.

I recall the campus library where I read every paper I could for free.  I miss that every time I have to subscribe.  I'd read the box scores and think, look at that attendance, gee-whiz,  if only they played in stadiums paid for by taxpayers and paid five-times as much for an obstructed view seat while corporations wrote off the expense of stadium suites, high above, in the clean, cool, crisp, summer breeze, the common folk ne'er will breathe.

I grew up in, well, not in, but near Milwaukee in a mansion where I made my servants idolize Joltin' Joe DiMaggio, I'd say look there's proof positive the son of a fisherman can still make a difference two-thousand years later, only this time we can make money off him.  I wanted to play too but there were several realities I had to admit to myself leading perhaps to the only bitter moment I ever had in life, it stung like too much chlorine in the water polo pool, but like chlorine didn't do any lasting damage.

You see, I couldn't hit a curve ball and I still can't, plus the American League wasn't willing to change the rules so I could wear the Yankees pinstripes and then hire someone to play the field and bat for me while I soaked in the adulation of delegating a job well done.  But that didn't diminish my love for the game or end my dream for a baseball life.  Instead I wormed my way into baseball like that fish on the Discovery Channel that eats the other fishes from the inside out, I have my lawyers researching whether or not I have a case against that fish for stealing my idea and not paying me a royalty.

Whether or not I win that case, I was very fortunate to fulfill the dream of my lifetime, the game is awash in steroids, attendance is falling like the Dow and I am thoroughly reviled in 12-States I didn't even know existed.  God bless the MLB, and I hope each of you leaves here today a better person for having seen me, and if someday I choose to blow my nose on your sleeve, you'll treasure the moment and tell your grandchildren, four years of college got me a job at McDonalds but my sleeve, this sleeve, touched the nostril of greatness.