Forget what your calendar says, spring is officially here. The sun is shining, the weather is turning, and the boys of summer have returned to Florida to kick off another baseball season. Yes, Virginia, after a long winter, things are finally looking up.
Call me biased if you will, but to me, the days of spring training are the very best of the year. The other day, as I was scrolling through the magical first box scores of the season, someone asked me why I loved these first few weeks so much. The players were rusty, the games were meaningless, the stars only played a few innings and half the guys would be cut before the start of the season. I didn't have an answer at the time, but now, as is always the case in life, I look back and know exactly what I should have said.
Part of the reason is nature. Every year, no matter how many feet of snow you get, or how many 4:30 sundowns you see, spring training is always there come March. Like the swallows returning to Capistrano or the buds on the trees of the Lawn sprouting, spring training just fits. Unlike football, which embraces the cold and snow, or basketball, which is played indoors, baseball is a game made for the spring - a game to be played on the green grass and under the perfect blue sky. The beautiful sun warms your body, and the dirt feels right underfoot. Spring training is an asylum from the dreary winter nights, and it lets you know that those glorious summer days are finally coming back.
Another reason is the purity of the game. Sure this might be the player's job, but one look at any baseball player's face the first time he steps on the field will show you that at heart, he's still the kid who just loved playing the game for the game. Watch some of the players play pepper or take batting practice with their hats turned backwards and you'll see it too. The stresses of pennant races and midseason swoons are far in the future. All they care about is enjoying the game that they love with their teammates. As Willie Stargell once said, "It's supposed to be fun. The [umpire] says 'play ball,' not 'work ball.'"
More than any other sport, baseball is a game. It's a game for the players on the field, the coaches in the dugout, and most importantly, the little kid who gets an autograph from his favorite player as he walked between drills. Nowhere else is this as clear as in the smiles and laughter that are contagious throughout every team's spring training facilities. Everyone is happy to be outside, enjoying the beautiful weather and the most wondrous of all sports. The joy is infectious, and no matter where I am, it reaches and thaws my iced heart.
But more so than anything else, spring training is my favorite time of the year because of one thing: hope. No matter what camp you're in, from the lowly Pirates to the powerful Red Sox, there's always a tangible feeling of hope in the air. Everyone is excited, and everyone believes deep down that this could be the year. Take the San Francisco Giants, for example. It was a team that hadn't made the playoffs since 2003 and went on to win the World Series last season. Or what about Cincinnati? The Reds hadn't made the postseason since 1995 before winning their division last year. Heck, they hadn't even finished better than third place since the turn of the century. All it took was a breakout year from first baseman Joey Votto to inject life into the team and help it take the division crown. Secretly, every player knows that this is his breakout season, and every team knows that this is the year it makes the leap. There's really no other time in all of sports that shares a similar feeling.
And really, couldn't we all use a little jolt of hope? We have so much negativity and pessimism in the world that, sometimes, we need the little refresher that hope gives us. We can all afford to forget our impending graduations, our frustrating job searches, the violence in the Middle East and the growing national debt crisis for a moment and just sit back and appreciate the crack of the bat, the smell of the grass and the hope that next year is finally now. I think we'd all be a little better off for it.
Or maybe, instead of rambling on, I should have just quoted Rogers Hornsby and simply said, "People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring."
Either one works.
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