Reposted from Rays of Light, where I do most of my writing...
Crack. The bat. Slap. The glove. Roar. The crowd.
It's spring again. Thoughts of melting snow, longer days, and the
fast-approaching summer inspire many. For the digital generation, more
comfortable at a drive-thru than a picnic, many of these thoughts are
lost. For a baseball fan, the feelings never die. The first pitch. The
first out. The first hot dog. The first game.
As cliché as it is, everyone is a contender come April 1. In 28 cities,
30 teams all have 30 different hopes and 30 different inspirations. In
Kansas City, the fans hope that Gil Meche can help turn the Royals from
doormat to spoiler. In New York, two sets of fans dream of a subway
series. In Anaheim, Atlanta, Chicago, and Boston, fans have their
collective fingers crossed for October baseball.
In Baltimore, they wonder where the franchise lost its way. In
Cleveland, they still remember the one that got away. In Miami, they
wonder how long their star player will be in town. In Arlington, a new
manager brings new hopes. In Toronto, an upstart team with an upstart
GM tries to complete its climb up baseball's Mount Everest. In
Washington, they wonder how important Alfonso Soriano really was.
In Pittsburgh, they hope that thoughts don't turn to football in May.
In San Diego, they wonder if pitching really does win championships. In
Arizona, they pray that a 43-year-old arm can carry an entire franchise
on it. In Houston, life after the hometown boy rode off into the sunset
begins. In Philadelphia, Upton and Rollins draw comparisons of
legendary proportions.
In St. Louis, its no longer "why not us?" but "why not us again?" In
Detroit, fans hope that 2006 wasn't a fluke. In San Francisco, fans
wonder how long the circus will stay in town. In Colorado, they just
want to be noticed and be relevant. In Oakland, Beane-ball is in
session again, hoping to sneak into another postseason.
In Milwaukee, there is a promise of reclaiming the potential that
escaped them just a year ago. In Seattle, a young team with a young fan
base searches for an identity. In Cincinnati, pitching is finally king.
In Los Angeles, they wonder if they really can outrun the competition.
In Minneapolis, the little engine that could wants to recapture the
magic that Kirby Puckett took with him.
And in Tampa Bay... an upstart young team with now-veteran owners are
trying to compete. Not just with the beasts of the AL East, but with a
fan base that is indifferent. With a fan base that doesn't care about
you unless you are winning. With a fan base that doesn't know who they
are. On April 1st, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays will be in first place. It
may be the only time this year that the team can boast that, but
there's always that hope that keeps the real fans coming to the park,
watching the games, and reminding us why baseball will always be
America's pastime.
Opening Day is almost here. Play ball.