So far everything I've posted here has been related to Christian faith. This entry will change that. The Major League baseball season has started. I came across something I wrote a few years ago and thought I'd post it here. If you're a baseball fan you'll get it. If you're not, indulge me anyway. After all, it's my site!
It was warm out tonight; not January warm but April warm in January. A warm breeze was blowing gently before a thunderstorm rolled in. It felt like a spring night. It's the kind of night that reminds you of the hope and assurance that spring is on the way and so is baseball.
It was the kind of night we loved when we were 18 and had all the answers before any of us had been confronted with the questions. We'd talk about which teams had the best shot that year. We'd talk about our teams and they were ours. They'd been a part of our lives since we were boys and they were still a part of our lives as we stood at the entry to manhood.
It would be a night to celebrate because the season was here and everybody was still a winner. All the teams are winners in the first week of April. As a result, all the fans are winners too. We were winners. Winter was over. Spring was here and hope came with it. We'd live forever and everything would always be as perfect as it was that night. We knew that as sure as we knew we'd be celebrating a Series victory in the fall with our heroes.
We all had the perfect girls picked out to marry. They'd be baseball fans. We'd make them fans. We could stay out here all night and celebrate baseball, our friendship, those girls and spring. It didn't matter that we were supposed to be in class in a few hours. The semester was almost over and besides, we'd already spent all those winter days in class. We deserved this.
We planned our lives and how we'd celebrate life next spring and the spring after that like we were celebrating now; on an empty baseball field in the middle of the night with no regrets about yesterday and no concerns about tomorrow.
As the night grew longer and the grass grew heavier we sat and laid there believing the cool wetness of the grass was like everything else in life. It was for us. It was our championship champagne that covered us in our victorious celebration; the celebration of hope, baseball, friendship and 18 year old invincibility. It was perfect and it was ours. It belonged to all of us and only us. Anyone not on that field at that time could ever feel that.
There was no reason to believe anything would change. It wouldn't be possible that in a few, quick years we'd lose track of each other. It was inconceivable to think my Pirates could only sniff a World Series once over the next 18 years. A sniff would be all they got though thanks to Barry Bonds' inability to throw out a crippled Sid Bream at the plate in '92. At that time, in that night how could it be possible for us to be spread around the country in different walks of life like free agents scattered around various leagues in different levels? We would have laughed at that thought on nights like this; on that night.
We were there. I was there. I had those thoughts and shared those feelings. They were thoughts and feelings brought to us on the quiet strength of that sweet and warm gentle breeze. I felt that breeze tonight. You know the kind. It carried with it the memories of that night from long ago and on its back was the hint and glimmer of new dreams. Then it rained.
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