I believe in the Church of Baseball.
I believe in the glory of the game, the earnest truth of a base hit up the middle.
I believe in the greats who have come before, and those who grace our fields now.
I believe in the crack of the bat, the snap of the glove, the roar of the crowd and rustle of the grass. I believe in the smell of hotdogs on a summer night, and the sound of an AM radio nestled between the seats.
I believe in the stand up double, the diving triple and the slow jog of a home run.
Today we celebrate our seasonal observance of the return of Baseball to our hallowed city. We celebrate a return to the game that has passed our idle time since before our grandparents were born. We celebrate the game that has remained “while America has rolled by like a procession of steamrollers. It continually reminds us of what once was, like an indian head penny in a hanful of new coins.”
We celebrate our traditions, past and present.
We celebrate the power of a game to unite a people, to create passion, to create diverse ties that cross all lines of race, religion and socio-economic status.
I will be leaving work at 11:00am today to celebrate all that is right and good with the world, along with 46,000 of my closest friends.
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs