OPINION: There's Something about Spring
Losing hope? It's baseball season, and again hope springs eternal.
By Martin Davis
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
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Rebellion was quiet Friday afternoon, save for three friends debating the state of baseball.
As the old man in the trio (I’m 63), it was fun to listen as a former college pitcher talked about the first regular-season use of the Automatic Ball-Strike system. How he was against it at the outset, but now appreciates the system.
I shared my appreciation for the introduction of the pitch-clock in 2023 — Welcome back baseball games that last 2.5 hours!
There was a shared frustration with the amount of money that flows through the game, and the predictable belly-aching about the use of Big Data to overanalyze everything. I mean really, “launch angles”? To quote a line from Major League, the classic 1989 baseball comedy, “Who gives a shit?”
But above it all was this — Baseball is back, and people can again engage in conversation and never mention politics.
To quote the late, great Harry Carey, “Holy cow!”
It’s a gift from the gods of baseball we should annually dance around a baseball bat to celebrate.
It’s far from the only gift the game provides.
This June, my wife and I will celebrate our 40th anniversary, and our marriage has had baseball as a binding thread.
Whether in the upper deck at Candlestick Park in San Francisco, behind a pillar in the old Comiskey Park in Chicago, baseball was something that we have long shared. She enjoys watching the people, while I always have a scorecard in my hand.
Whenever conversations became difficult over our marriage, baseball allowed us to find our way back. We have a lot of memories to pull from. Watching Nolan Ryan win his 300th game one late summer night in Milwaukee, Wisconsin; seeing him pitch a one-hitter against the White Sox in Chicago; watching Max Scherzer win his famous black-eye game at Nats Park; or just catching a minor league game at any one of the many ballparks from coast-to-coast we’ve visited.
And then there was the year she went to see the Oakland A’s play with some friends when we were living in Berkeley, California. She caught a Reggie Jackson fly ball and gave it to a kid who was with them. Later that day, I saw him playing with it in a ditch. The baseball didn’t survive — the marriage did. We still laugh about that one.
(I could add the entire 1987 San Francisco Giants baseball season, but will spare you. Hmm-Baby.)
At a time when we have too little in common, it helps to remember that for more than 150 years, Americans have had baseball to talk about for most of the year.
Don’t know where to start? Even if you’ve never seen a game, ask someone their favorite baseball memory. Trust me, the conversation will flow.
Me and my wife will begin our 41st year of making memories this coming Friday at Nats Park, where we will take in Opening Day for the Nationals. Another first. We’ve seen a lot of great moments in baseball history — neither of us has ever attended an Opening Day.
One more game. One more season. A lifetime of memories.
It’s baseball season — there’s reason to be hopeful for us yet.
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