Sunday, April 2, 2017

Anno Catuli: Opening Day and the Rebirth of the Spirit of Summer

It is an elegant game, played by brutes and bastards. It gives space to breathe only to reciprocate with moments that stop the heart. It creates a wealth of memories, often nothing to do with any given pitch. Though the Major League season extends far beyond the warmth of July and August, we will always romanticize our game as such: Baseball has, was, and will always be the great human summer. It never requires unbroken attention. In fact, the game almost requires you to stray. It is a conversational pastime. What draws us back year after year is not just the final score and the plays that caused it. We tie our senses to the familiarity of a ballpark. The pristine-cut grass, too green to call it merely green. The gentle rumble of a few thousand separate conversations, turning to a roar at the crack of a bat striking a ball in that unmistakable way we all know. There is no requirement on our part. No reason beyond fulfilling that core desire to return to summer, where the halcyon days of youth can be recounted. Baseball has been a professional game now for nearly one hundred years. The rules have changed, players come and go, generations pass on the childlike wonder of watching adults play a game. One thing stands true and has for longer than any of us have been alive- no matter the weather, the opponent or the amount of confidence in one's team, Opening Day gives light to optimism. That everything will be alright in the end. That with the first sound of a ball whipping into a glove, winter has been defeated and all the sentimental fondness we have for summer days at the ballpark has won, yet again.

Carpe Noctem: The Geoff Blum Story

A baseball season can seem so long that a single plate appearance can seem largely insignificant. As summer's long days turn cold and th...