opening day
Today was Opening Day. There isn't much that I love more than baseball.
Something about baseball for me I think is an attempt to find an innocence of a world that existed before I did, or a game and passion that I missed out on in childhood. My biggest regret in life is never learning to play baseball. I remember my Dad taking me out to catch, but I couldn't do what I knew I was supposed to do - and I got mad and gave up. I remember going to Winchester Royals farm league games as a kid, and Richmond Braves games in college, but it didn't click for me until after college. A friend mentioned we could drive up to Baltimore to catch an Orioles game. Like go in? To a major league game? I don't know why, but in my mind, those were things that were on tv. The concept that I could walk up to a major league stadium and buy a ticket and go in was something I had never even considered.
After moving to Dallas, I started going to Texas Rangers games. Nothing was better than a warm summer night in a tshirt with beer and buds and a ballgame. And again, after moving to Los Angeles, I quickly adopted the Dodgers. I go to too many games to not adopt the home team. Soon I started going to the AllStar Game and the World Series almost every year. I chase autographs like a kid - usually unsuccessfully. Maybe I'm actually chasing my childhood. But Now I can have a beer too!
So today was Opening Day - yet another expensive tradition I've created for myself. (Though this year thanks to a spare ticket from my friend Tammie, I made it in for free - thanks Tammie!) Knowing that baseball season is here again gives me peace of mind. Despite the corporate owners and drug addicted players, there's something about baseball that feels pure to me - probably only because its what I want to believe. But I'm not ready to give up on that belief yet.
From one of my favorite movies, Field of Dreams (I'll admit it, I can't watch it without crying. shut up):
"And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in short sleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'’ll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they’ll have to brush them away from their faces. ... The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again...."