The anticipation of Opening Day. The excitement of pitchers and catchers reporting. The nail-biting thrill and agony as the regular season winds into the post season.
This year reminded me more than ever how beautiful baseball is. The St Louis Cardinals are my first love; my heart; my forever. And I am blessed enough to be a fan of the quirky and fun, thrilling and adorable Tampa Bay Rays, too. Both teams brought it down to the wire this year, clinching Wild Card berths on the last day of the regular season. The Rays quickly were turned aside by the Texas Rangers once again. But my Cardinals are continuing a remarkable, joyous journey that I hope takes us well into October.
As much as I love a good pitchers' duel or walk-off home run though, what I love most about baseball is how much it means to my family. My dad and I bond through baseball (and our puggles, but that's another blog). Talking, texting, late into the night - the 2011 St Louis Cardinals have brought me back to my childhood in a way, watching games with my dad, contemplating match ups, debating the designated hitter, on and on. I live so far away now. I miss actually being able to watch games with him. I was blessed to be at home the night the Cards clinched and to get to enjoy that with my parents. Tears streaming down my face, I celebrated the incredible accomplishments of BOTH of my teams.
I hope my dad realizes when I think of baseball, I think of him. Of everything he taught me about the game. Of planning trips and taking days off exclusively to see the Cards. Of the warm summer evenings we watched on TV or even listened to Jack and Mike on the radio. Baseball is much, much, much more than just a game.
