In less than 6 hours, the 2015 Major League Baseball season will be underway. There is something special about the words Opening Day.
Baseball was romantic to me growing up. The green grass, the painted lines, the uniforms, the every day grind, listening to the game on the radio, and reading the newspaper daily to check out the statistics. And then a few times a week was the words I uttered, “Dad lets go play catch”. All so romantic.
Sharing the conversation with my dad playing catch or while watching a game was irreplacable. The excitment and anticipation of getting to school to talk with friends about something unbelievable happening the night before was always something I looked forward to. The comparisons of stats and countless debates was something I treasured. And then something changed.
As I grew up it became a little less special each year. I cant quite put my finger on the reason. I dont know if its all the players I grew up with have left the game. I dont know if its because living in the Philadelphia market and seeing limited games of my team the Yankees. I dont know if its because my priorities in life have changed as I have gotten older. And perhaps its a combination of all. But its not as romantic as it once was.
I yearn for that special feeling again. The reasons it became a little less special may not change. Maybe all it will take is the day my son says to me, “Dad, lets go play catch”. Afterall, there is something romantic about a father and son and baseball.