To the City of Detroit, it's a nine-acre abandoned lot. But to generations of baseball fans it still feels like home. After Tiger stadium was demolished in 2009, blight sprung up. But a group of citizens took action, chopping down weeds, mowing the grass, and lovingly maintaining the ball field. In a city facing bankruptcy it sounds like a feel-good story. But city officials want to sell the land. They see these volunteers as trespassers. But the grounds crew keeps going, tirelessly spending their time, energy, and money to preserve the field. Can a baseball field be considered sacred ground? Why is it important for cities to preserve memory? Can the grounds crew save the field? Or will they be thrown out stealing home?—Anonymous