Put Me In Coach....

It won't be long now until baseball season is underway. As a follow up to a posting from last week, I just wanted to let you know that Cameron did earn a spot on the freshman team and he too is coveting his jacket, just like Alex did three years ago. Congrats, Cam!

Warmer temps and lots of sunshine today must be a gift from the Irish gods. Thank you so much, we'll take it. I hope it's a sign of things to come with baseball games starting in just a couple of weeks.

I have fond memories of playing baseball with the neighborhood kids in the middle of the street or around the corner and down the block, in an empty lot, growing up in Garden City. I remember we'd use some piece of trash or tar spot in the street for each base. Of course the base paths weren't very long, considering how narrow the street was, but it was fun. I also remember listening to Ernie Harwell's voice on the radio at night with my little red radio placed right next to my pillow.

In light of all the steroid scandals, we still view baseball as a game with many traditions and simple American values. A few nights ago, I was watching a professional basketball game while they were making the player introductions. If you ever watched a pro basketball game, you know that the player introductions have turned into quite a production. Arena lights are turned off, spot lights are gyrating all over the building, music is blaring and revving up the crowd, and each arena announcer has his own way of introducing the home team. It's really quite over the top.

I started wondering how this tradition got started and why they don't do that for other sports when the athletes are introduced, like baseball. I suppose, for one thing, you can't dim the lights for dramatic flare, at least not during the day games. Also, I don't think the sound system in an outdoor baseball stadium would have quite the same effect in an arena. You could still rumble the words "Ma-ma-ma-ma-magglio Ordooooooooooonnnnnnez" but it just doesn't fly.

How about the announcer at a golf tournament spewing out the introduction "Tigggerrrrrrrr Woo-Woo-Woo-Woooooooooods!" Tiger would come out onto the green and start whooping it up with his caddy with their arms around each other's shoulders swaying back and forth to the music. Hmm...maybe not.

What is it about baseball that we love so much? Perhaps it's the subliminal message in our minds that the long, cold winter is about to come to an end and that hope is springing eternal. The smell of the grass, warm breezes, your face up to the sun, and the crack of the bat all make for a wonderful "remember this moment" moment. For awhile, everything feels possible again. Perhaps it's the fact that no matter how technically advanced sports have become, it's still a matter of throw the ball, hit the ball, catch the ball. End of story. No "whooping it up" necessary.