It don't matter who's playing. When your team's down by one in the bottom of the ninth, there's two outs, a full count, and a man on third, the magic transcends all the contract haggling, egos and bullshit. Even the slings and arrows of your own existence go right out the window, and there is only the eternal energy of that moment. It's the same for the 12 year old with the taped bat as it is for the jaded Pro. It don't matter who's playing.