March Trenches

Can you hear that sound? It’s the distinct crack of a ball hitting a bat and the constant hum of chatter. “Hey batter, batter. Hey batter, batter.” Can you smell that fragrant bouquet of hamburgers grilling and peanuts boiling? Can you smell the freshly cut grass on the diamond? Can you taste that fabulous first sip of ice-cold draft beer mixing perfectly with the salt of the peanuts? Can you see that wonderful sight? That perfect white chalk diamond stands out like a perfect jewel in the sea of emerald green grass. Do you feel that stirring deep in your soul? That calling brings you back year after year to America’s pastime.

Baseball.

I love baseball. I always have. I remember watching the Atlanta Braves on TV and attending Houston Astros games while growing up. I love watching the players stand in the batter’s box, so tall and brave. I love the stare down between batter and pitcher, knowing the game is on the line. I love the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, tied score. The wind up and the pitch. And another game is won.

I am an equal opportunity baseball watcher. If there’s a game on, I’m watching it. I’m not worried who’s playing; I may not even root for a team. I just want to watch. It doesn’t matter if the game is college or major league. I want to lose myself for a few hours in this great game. I want to stand and stretch in the seventh inning and sing along with another off key rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” I’ve rarely missed an opening day Braves game even if it meant taking a day off of work or calling in sick. That’s my day and it’s my game. Those old MLB commercials got it right. “I live for this!”