Baseball

Only FOUR more days until spring training.

In four days I will be basking in the sun watching my Padres play ball.

Life is good.

My husband doesn't understand this passion, this need to watch my team win or lose. He doesn't understand the driving force behind this desire of mine.

He asked me, "Why do you like baseball?"

Why?

Baseball is more than a sport. One of my earliest memories is attending a San Diego Padre baseball game with my dad, sister, and brother. I don't remember much about the game. What I do recall is sitting in leftfield with my dad, sun beating down on us, eating a hot dog and drinking soda. We weren't allowed soda so that was a treat. I remember feeling so happy to watch baseball with my dad.

I learned to love baseball that day.

I followed the Padres through all their ups and downs; mirroring my own life in so many ways.
They would get an incredible player and trade him away. They would hire morons to manage the team. They had Roseanne sing the national anthema.

It wasn't easy being a Padre fan.

But life isn't easy either.

Maybe I love baseball so much because every spring when the Padres take the field my hope of them winning the World Series is renewed.

Maybe I love baseball because it provides me with a sense of community. If nothing else you can always talk about baseball.

Or maybe I love baseball so much because it takes me back to that little girl sitting out in leftfield with her daddy eating a hotdog and drinking a soda and knowing with all my being I was completely safe and everything was right in the world.

Maybe, just maybe, when the boys of spring play, everything else just doesn't matter.

... just baseball.