I love baseball.  I have loved baseball my entire life.  Despite us being in the 2000’s, this still never fails to surprise members of the opposite sex.  R. often exclaims to his friends, “She watches Baseball Tonight!” as if it’s like I’m wearing an athletic cup and calling myself Joe.  These shocked males often try to test me, as if I’m only faking it to be attractive.

Sorry, guys–it’s real.  I was practically born with a whiffle ball bat in my hand as my Dad tossed the ball.  When I was in 3rd grade I loved baseball so much and was so dellusional that I wrote a letter to the Chicago Tribue Kids section about how I planned on being a female professional baseball player (in response to some kid writing girls would never be any good at sports).  I cried when Cal Ripken Jr. retired and no, I will not trade you Joe Mauer, Dan Haren, Jacoby Ellsbury, or Ryan Theriot for Jim Thome.

My love for baseball is as deep and obsessive as my love for trivia, fruity candy, and books.  I take it personally when R. claims baseball players are not athletes.  I believe in baseball’s beauty, its complexity.  I believe in its fun and its grit.  I pine for it every winter, and every year it’s  return seems bright and promising (even when looking at the Cardinal’s lackluster roster and dope of a manager).  With baseball, anything can happen.

So, Happy Opening Day, baseball fans!  It will be a fun season (and the Cubs STILL won’t see the Series).

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