Baseball

The diamond is sacred ground. A place where nostalgic poetry for the “National Pastime” is sparked and the ol’ ballgame reimagined in every utterance. While much has been said about this simple game, from its communal upstart to open fields all around the world, none can precisely express the individual experience that’s had when the sound of the rotating sprinkler sprays water over freshly cut grass.

The therapeutic intervals of silence and small talk had between teammates while listening to the ball flying through the air landing into the web of a well oiled mitt. The crack of the bat sending a ball screaming into the outfield as a fielder shuffles to get under it. Imagining ourselves in all of the greats that have stepped to the plate for a chance to get on the ballot for an entry into Cooperstown. Replaying what we would do as our cleats stepped into the batter’s box with 2 outs bottom of the 9th, calling the shot, and pointing intently to the wall in the outfield.

Not only does it spark the imagination, it inspires hope to the players that play it as well as to the fans that watch it. It takes us back to simpler times of stickball games, or some other creative variation, in city streets, in backyards, in parks and abandoned lots, on suburban and rural roads. It’s an even more beautiful game when played and enjoyed by a collective of races, genders and ethnicities around the world. Baseball warms the soul like apple pie, nourishes the appetite like sushi, and comforts like fried plantains. 

The game that tests fan loyalty while igniting debate over a floating invisible strike zone that can dictate an individual’s mood from pitch to pitch. In baseball, nothings happens until it happens. One moment the sound of crickets and bird songs can be heard, the next a roaring crowd as a melodically orchestrated double play unfolds at 2nd base. Nervous tension looms while awaiting the next pitch hoping the ball gets a one-way ticket to the bleachers and beyond.

Springtime gives us many things. Blooming trees. The elusive knuckleball. The grand “salami”. The shift… Most of all, it gives us fresh start to root for the home team. I love this time of year.

Go Giants!