Like No Other


My favorite time of the year got underway last week.  Baseball season.  There is just something about the smell of the grass, the smell of the leather, the crack of the bat.  It’s tough to put into words, at least to put into words that will do it justice.

I enjoy the baseball season.  All 162 games.  And then the playoffs.  I enjoy it more when the Red Sox are playing well, but last August seems so long ago (that is the last month they played baseball worth watching). 

I enjoy watching players play the game right.  That means hustling and caring.  It means not showing up a pitcher when they hit a homer; just put their head down and act like they have been there before.  It is the excitement of a walk-off win and the joy of watching grown men act like little kids.  It is the infectous smile of David Ortiz (pictured above).

Baseball gets me through the hot and miserable summer and into the fall.  Watching baseball is fun for me, but in more than the way a casual fan would enjoy watching.  I sit there and think along with the managers, or at least try to.  I enjoy the first call to my dad when an announcer misidentifies an automatic double as a ground rule double.

Baseball is great.  And my favorite time of year is finally here.

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