Three days of suffering is over. Baseball will return to all of our lives tonight, and the world is a better place.
I missed baseball. I get home from work around 6:00 p.m. every night. That usually gives me ample time to decompress, eat, check my e-mail and whatnot and have enough time to gear up for the Mets game.
The Mets are my escape. It's great to come home after a long day of commuting and sit back, hopefully relax, and enjoy three hours of baseball. I love everything about the game.
I love Gary Cohen and Keith Hernandez or Ron Darling in the booth, breaking down players, plays, situations. I also love when they don't talk about the game at all, but reminisce on the past or just completely digress away from the topic into something that has nothing to do with baseball.
I love the singularity of the game. One player vs. another. Pitcher vs. batter. The pitcher is at the advantage, as he has eight other guys on the field waiting to help him, but for the batter, it's like David versus Goliath. This one person must break down the power of nine to attempt to get a hit, move a runner over, score a run.
I love the strategy. The double switch, something foreign to most American League fans, as I've had to explain it on more than a few occasions. Bunting a runner over. The elusive suicide squeeze. All these plays, plays that each and every player knows about, but can't truly tell when they're going to come, or if they're going to come. The anticipation of every play, every pitch, is truly wonderful. You're on the edge of your seat, practically from the first pitch to the last. Any game could turn with the swing of the bat, a ball out of the strike zone, or an errant throw.
Today, baseball will return, with my hunger and passion for it renewed. Sometimes game after game gets a little repetitive and tedious, but with a few days off from true competition, I'm chomping at the bit to see some New York Mets baseball again.
No comments:
Post a Comment