I can't remember the exact date when I stopped watching baseball. It was sometime between Candlestick and Monster Park. Budweiser had already become the official beer of Major League Baseball and Cracker Jacks had long since been replaced by a more popular selling concession. My favorite team still had a roster full of notable faces, though. They included the spokesman for Athlete's Foot, three players with ongoing credit card commercials, and two alumni from Right Guard SportsStick. I don't know if it was the branding of the game or the tenacity of the commercials themselves, but somehow my retreat from corporate America into America's great pastime became less of a separation and more of a marriage. I don't think of my departure from the game as being a particular moment, just a gradual descent. After a 20-year career in corporate America, I seemed to be looking for something to put some space between us, like a canyon or a mountain.

So I did the only thing I could... turned off the TV, grabbed a saddle, and rode. With a pack horse I began a trek that eventually took me the length of California in three and a half months, for 1350 miles. From the Mexican border to the Oregon border, I rode the backroads and trails of California. I viewed vistas from mountaintops of the Pacific Crest Trail, peered at the vast, unspoiled flatlands of the Carizzo Plains, looked out over the Pacific Ocean north of Santa Cruz, saw thousands of acres of rice being grown north of Sacramento, and explored the winding roads and hills of the Trinity Alps. I rode all the parts of America that corporate couldn't attach itself to. Or so I thought.

Recently reading the local paper, I stumbled across a story that made me spit out my grande triple - mocha with a shot of espresso. The National Park Service (NPS) announced that they are considering allowing the corporate sponsorship of national parks. Suddenly, my mind began swimming in a sea of frightening possibilities. My venture into the great outdoors may become a venture into the great outdoors, brought to you by Outback Steakhouse. Or, come to the Grand Canyon and visit our gift store, The Gap.

Upon further investigation, I found that the corporate branding would be limited to landmarks within the parks and not the parks themselves. While my fears of "Old Faithful National Park, brought to you by Viagra" were somewhat alleviated, I was still worried about some of nature's greatest beauties being ruined by corporate branding. I could just imagine my peaceful summer ride becoming an existential crisis when I am forced to choose between the Nike Path and the Calvin Klein Trail, begging the question, "Just do it, or just be?" Would Yosemite's Half-Dome be the same after being sponsored by the Hair Club For Men? Would the Colorado River be an image of beauty if it is brought to you by Coors? Or would they all be ruined the way Joe Cocker's "Like a Rock" was, when it could no longer be listened to without picturing a Chevy pick-up climbing its way onto a pile of boulders?

Determined to find others sharing my outrage, I scoured the internet, looking for the public's reaction. Surely, I thought, everyone would be angered by this corporate invasion into the last vestige of American backcountry. But when I came across a Sierra Club spokesman quoted as saying they would take a "wait-and-see attitude," I was puzzled. Why wouldn't the champion of the wilderness be anything but up in arms over this catastrophe? The answer, it turns out, is simpler than I would have thought.

Maintaining the national forests is an expensive business. Blazing trails, controlling fires, clearing brush, removing deadfall and cleaning up trailheads, all costs money. This decision doesn't come simply on the heels of all other corporate takeovers; it comes on the heels of federal budget cuts to the Forest Service and national park funding. And while riding through the petrified woods might be a little less enjoyable after it is sponsored by Geritol, losing the ability to see them at all would be a true catastrophe.

There are still plenty of reasons to fear the line being crossed. Though Cialis will not be quick to sponsor Minute Man National Park, Minute Maid might be. Though it should be noted some parks might be exempt from the fear of corporate sponsorship. Great Falls National Park probably won't be sponsored by the Dow Jones Industrial Average, or any airline company for that matter.

We must be vigilant in making sure the National Park Service doesn't allow corporate sponsors to cross those lines. Imagery is everything. Preservation of wilderness and backcountry image is as important as preserving the trails. Don't get me wrong. I am a consumer. I like McDonald's occasionally. But I don't want the image of their arches crossing over Niagara Falls to spoil this national wonder.

I hope everyone maintains a level of moderation in this exercise, attempting to preserve is the purpose. Preserve, not enhance, with neon modernization. I am not certain where to send our thoughts and comments. The time for public feedback had long passed when I read the article. But letters to key individuals with authority in our parks could not hurt, encouraging level-headed moderation of such sponsorship.

And in the end, the best way for individuals to work to preserve these natural wonders is to donate what you can... time and money. The more help the NPS gets from us, the less it will need from corporate sponsorship. And frankly, I would love to see Microsoft employees assisting in trail work. I would hate to see Windows 2010 at kiosks on trailheads. The difference is obvious to me and hopefully to our park officials. Corporate sponsorships could be a good thing, if kept moderately tasteful and discreet.

Who knows, maybe I was wrong about baseball, too. Maybe the seventh inning stretch being brought to you by Billy Blanks' Tae Bo workout isn't so terrible. Maybe I can live with knowing the shortstop uses Roegain. Maybe seeing my favorite sports hero in a Jock-Itch commercial won't kill me. Okay, maybe not.

Special thanks to Jonathan Stauber, my youngest son, for contributing maturity to this article.