LOS ANGELES, February 4, 2013 — Happiness is only seven days away. As the frigid 50-degree days in Los Angeles start to fade and give way to warmer horizons, so too do the memories of the fall season sports. The Ravens won the Super Bowl, but that no longer matters.
Lance Armstrong finally admitted that he cheated while riding bikes, so what? Manti T’eo’s fake girlfriend died, then came back to life, then died again, then had a sex change or did she just disappear? It doesn’t matter. Something may or may not have happened in soccer, I just don’t care. Baseball is finally here and nothing else matters!
In seven days, pitchers, catchers and the dedicated other position players on the team will report to their teams’ respective Spring Training facilities in both Florida and Arizona. There they will begin to knock off the winter’s rust and shake out the frozen cobwebs from their gloves. Baseballs freshly rubbed with Delaware mud begin flying in every direction as the crack of the bat can be heard from all over the various spring training complexes.
From the prospect looking to break camp with the big league team for the first time to the wily veteran looking for one last dance on the big stage to the fan sitting in the stands, this is the time of year where literally anything and everything is possible.
Fans also have the hope, no matter how remote, that their team can put together the kind of year they will eventually tell their children and grandchildren about. Sure, for some teams it may be improbable, but right now all fans can believe this could be the year that their team does the impossible, win the World Series.
Spring is loaded with spectacular views of green lush terrain all over from the valleys to the hills, but no site is more spectacular than the green of the grass on a baseball diamond in the spring.
Sure, there are those people out there who may find the sport boring only because their minds are unable to follow what is going on at all times on the field. There are those who will be more focused on what is happening in the fictional world of reality television. Baseball is, after all, a thinking person’s sport and, therefore, not for everyone.
Even if you hate baseball, you have to love sitting outside in the warm air, enjoying some peanuts, maybe hot dog or two, a cool beverage of your choice, and topping it off with a chocolate malt or an ice cream sandwich. While all of these items may set you back $100, I can’t think of a better place to spend it.
Take your kids and give them the memories of a lifetime or go with your buddies and forget about all of the trivial problems of the outside world for when the umpire yells, “Play ball,” the only thing that truly matters is baseball.
Kevin J. Wells writes about Major League Baseball and punk rock music. Follow him on Twitter @WellsOnBaseball
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