Saturday, March 31, 2012

I Lava Baseball

Duh.  

I'd be a fool not to.
I am so excited about the start of Baseball season.  It's this swallowing-whole where you can't walk into a restaurant or bar without some game, somewhere playing and everyone is wearing their team's colors and suddenly sports radio is interesting again.  The twitter shit talking, the real life shit talking.  Having common ground with my really sensible and ridiculously brilliant sister.  

And of course, the game itself.  Smart, emotionally involving, impressive and easily accessible. 

Most people are lifelong fans, they started following a team as a kid with their parents or friends and have stuck by that. I'm still in my infancy as a baseball fan, this will be my third season of giving a damn.  

I fought it, my ex husband would dominate the TV several nights a week and I'd groan loudly, complain that it was stupid and go read Twilight or write love letters to Hanson.  But then something clicked.  I think it was the human aspect of the game- hearing an interesting story about a player during a lull in the game that made me realize that baseball has some fascinating people in it, not just meathead athletes. (And oh how I've tried in vain since this epiphany to see football players this way.  Do they have personalities?)  So I started watching with him passively.  

It was early in the season- late April or early May, and one of the pitchers wasn't doing so well, lots of people were questioning his "stuff" and I couldn't help but be drawn into the articles and speculation about what he'd need to do to pull out of his slump.  It became this new thing where I felt that if he couldn't be as great as everyone said he was then I'd feel somehow let down.  I have no clue how that line of thinking worked, but I paid close attention and started to recognize that pitching wasn't just throwing a ball.  What the heck, there's actual mechanics to it? 

Then I started to learn the game bit by bit, and started getting stressed out and tense in all the right moments.  The first time I whooped loudly without realizing it was coming out I knew I'd graduated and I'd be a fan of the sport for life.  The first professional sport I've ever cared about.  

I am obviously years behind everyone on baseball know-how.  I don't have a broad grasp of baseball history or my team's past that I can recall as easily as my own birthday like everyone else I know, but I'm a devoted disciple.  Watching hours and hours of Ken Burns: Baseball, reading books so I can watch the game better and catch the little nuances that I've been missing in my newbie state...all of that good stuff.  If I'm going to enjoy something I want to know as much as possible.  I am still pathetic at talking smack, but my friends Yvonne and Chris have been very generous with their time to help me understand that fine art as well. 

This year I'm hoping to make it to my first major league game- I went all the time last year to the Fresno Grizzlies games because Chukchansi Park is very close to where I live (hey-o for free fireworks shows if people keep their trees trimmed!) but I still haven't been to see my team up close and personal.  I might cry if I don't get to.

I Lava that I was wrong all along about baseball, not only is it a fantastic way to completely lose myself for half of the year but it also proves once again that nothing is set in stone.  If I was wrong about hating all sports, what else could I be missing out on?

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