Ides of March

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.