"People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring."
Rogers Hornsby
This quote sums up my feelings exactly. Oh, sure there’s football that gets me through the baseball off-season. But there’s nothing like warmer temperatures, cut grass, the smell of Spring, and the umpire’s cry of “Play Ball” on the Opening Day of baseball.
The love for baseball in my family goes way back. I grew up hearing stories about my great grandfather who never missed listening to a game on the radio. Because of his deafness he would hold an ear horn to his ear and put it right up to the ball game that played on the radio. He could not believe, like many other Dodger fans, that they would actually leave Brooklyn for Los Angeles. Nevertheless, he continued following the Dodgers and the Yankees until his passing in 1956. Another grandfather, an old Maine potato farmer, had a love for the Boston Red Sox.
As a kid growing up in Anaheim my dad always had an Angel game on the radio. In the background it would play as we went about our evening business. And although my own baseball aspirations didn’t play out the way I dreamed they would, my love for the game has never changed.
I am writing this nine days removed from the crowning of the Houston Astros as champions of the baseball world. This Series between the Dodgers and the Stros epitomized everything that is right about the game; clutch hitting, clutch pitching, late inning theatrics, and the beauty of baseball played at the highest level. Much like the Cubs’ win last year, Houston’s win came after a long drought that culminated just a couple of years ago with losing 111 games in 2013. This year they did just the opposite, and although both teams had their own heroes emerge, it was Houston that pulled through at the end with a Game 7 win. A win that will do its part in helping to heal a city.
I cannot wait for next season. Until then I’ll be staring out my window waiting for Spring.
Recommended book to read: “The Pitch that Killed” by Mike Sowell. A great story about the pennant race of 1920 and the death of Ray Chapman; the only Major League Baseball player to die from an on-field injury.