With Major League Baseball’s Opening Day coming up just around the corner, I decided that now would be the perfect time to take a gander at why I love baseball season so much.
There are those pessimists out there who boldly predict that this season will be depressing for the casual baseball fan because of economic trouble; however, regardless of the state of the economy, magic will surely fill the air once the first pitch is thrown out.
As players begin to trot out onto the diamond early next week, memories will come flooding back to the many fans that have been counting the days from the end of the season in October to Opening Day 2009.
With those memories comes the hope of the impossible (especially if you are a Texas Rangers fan).
Yes, my Rangers allegiance may come as a shock to any of the many Cardinals fans that might be reading this article. But please bear with me.
Baseball means something more to me than wins and losses (again, proven by my fan-ship). There are so many storylines, little quirks and intangibles within the game of baseball that make it truly special.
In what other sport, for instance, can the most prominent memory of a game be the smell of the dirt?
Every time I step foot inside a baseball stadium, my nostrils begin tingling with anticipation, alerting me that all might be right with the world.
The baseball diamond serves as more than just a patch of red dirt.
It is a snapshot. It is a sip of cool water after a long journey through the desert. It is a place where fans shuck their outside responsibilities, creating new personalities within the hallowed grounds of the stadium walls.
Once you step inside, it does not matter where you stand on the corporate ladder. Businessmen and mailmen unite for one common goal: cheer the home team to victory.
I suppose the game itself is worth mentioning. Year after year, the baseball season is filled with some of the greatest stories in sports.
The Red Sox overcame decades of failure to win two World Series.
The Cubs find some strange way to choke every time they see the faintest sign of success.
Josh Hamilton overcame a severe drug addiction to make his comeback to the game and leave his mark in becoming last year’s home run derby champion.
Whatever the story (and there are many more), players fill each season with jubilation, goose bumps and even tears.
Even in the aftermath of the steroids era, the drama of a 3-2 pitch with two out in the bottom of the ninth is unrivaled in any sport. Succeed and become baseball legend. Fail and feel the wrath of baseball infamy.
So what memories will this baseball season create?
Will there be another Steve Bartman?
Will the New York Yankees, who spent more money than most small countries this offseason, return to power once again?
Will Albert Pujols actually hit a ball out of Busch Stadium?
Will any team be able to surprise to the extent that the Tampa Bay Rays did last season?
Those are just a few of the questions that will begin to be answered when Opening Day finally arrives on Monday.
If only the Rangers had fewer questions about their pitching.
