It is safe to say that Major League Baseball has experienced its fair share of black eyes: Steroids, drug testing, competitive balance, an average salary that just recently dropped to $2.49 million. No wonder so many people have been turned off to the national pastime. It just does not seem to be the same game they fell in love with as kids.

Do not be fooled by baseball’s current state. The game has not changed. It is just that its purest form lies elsewhere than New York, Boston, Los Angeles and Chicago. The history books may be written by what’s happening in the majors, but the heart and soul of the game lies in small towns all across America.

In venerable stadiums and parks in remote locations, the minor leagues epitomize what makes baseball the greatest game in the world. A mix of bonus babies, aging veterans and determined teenagers come together with one common goal in mind: to make it.

While the majors are filled with public-relations nightmares and an overwhelming sense of frustration, the minors are bursting with promise: shooting stars blazing a path to the show, wide-eyed kids getting to put on a uniform in exchange for a paycheck for the very first time, young children taking in their first live ball game.

My fondest baseball memories will always be summer nights as a grade-schooler at Goodland Field in Appleton, Wis., taking in a Foxes game with my dad. When it all boils down to it, that is where it was at. Getting that first foul ball, learning the ins and outs of the game, spending time with family and watching the likes of Flash Gordon, Terry Shumpert, Raul Ibanez, Alex Rodriguez and others kick off their baseball journeys by cutting their teeth in the Midwest League.

One of the greatest aspects of watching a minor league game is trying to spot the next star. Just think, before Derek Jeter was Mr. New York, he was putting in his work for the Columbus Clippers. Before Frank Thomas starting winning MVPs, he donned a Birmingham Barons uniform. Before they were filthy rich, they were playing for pittance and a chance to show what they could do.

In the minors, ball players are void of the materialistic obsessions that seem to take hold of them once they crack the big time. There are no million-dollar endorsement deals, just a modest salary, meal money and a lot of long bus rides. They better love the game because, save for a few first-round draft picks, the money is not there.

Most of them will never make it. In fact, only a small percentage will crack a big league roster, and even fewer will actually achieve stardom. But every last one of them still has that twinkle of hope in his eye. They may inadvertently be chasing money, but what they are really chasing is a dream, a dream that nearly every youngster has had and lived out in their backyard at one time or another.

That is why beneath the cheesy in-game promotions and goofy mascots, minor-league baseball is so wonderful.

For the average American family, a trip to a Major League baseball game involves a lengthy car ride, expensive tickets and even pricier food to watch multi-millionaires from a distance.

Minor league games are different. Tickets are affordable, allowing the whole family to go to a game more than once per year. Any family, not just the wealthy, can enjoy the great American game. And unlike the majors, there is a real sense of intimacy between player and fan everywhere from Ogden, Utah, to Portland, Maine.

Maybe it is the accessibility of the minor-league player that provides the true allure for fans. There is no fancy penthouse suite for these guys. Many of them live with a host family, and some of them are living in the United States for the first time. They seem like real people and allow fans to put a face with the name on the back of the jersey.

While big leaguers sneak out back doors to avoid autograph seekers, many minor leaguers have to pass through the ballpark’s concourse or stands to simply get to their dugout. They do not dodge kids — and the old guys who do not know when to quit — they take the extra time to make somebody’s day. Granted, their signature might not have the same value, but when has that ever mattered to a seven-year-old kid?

Minor league baseball is not about glitz and glamour. It is about baseball, childhood dreams and, most of all, hope. The big leagues may have driven many a fan away from the game they once loved dearly, but they have not killed the true spirit of the game. Need proof? Just head to an old stadium in a small town, filled with 20-year-olds with their eyes fixed firmly on a bright future.