If you destroyed the underpinnings of this great American sport, you are a hated, ugly, detestable person.
It sounds like something from a Woody Guthrie song, but it's true; I was raised in a freight car.
They become the keepers of the mystery. They place themselves between the communicants of the religion, and the immediate experience. And then they dictate the terms on which you can have contact with this wonderful mystery. We don't dictate those terms.

