It's Go Time

“The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good and it could be again.”

-James Earl Jones, “Field of Dreams”

Now is the time of year when sports writers around the country rhapsodize about the crack of the bat, the smell of the grass, hit-and-runs and suicide squeezes. They reminisce about going to the ballpark for the first time, recall the thrill of seeing their childhood heroes in person, and wax nostalgic about having a catch with the old man. It’s all just filler, and as much as I love baseball I can’t help but roll my eyes.

But then it happens. Spring training highlights pop-up more frequently on ESPN as the calendar slowly marches towards April. I get a tingly feeling in my bones after staring at my fantasy team roster for too long, checking and re-checking the waiver wire with the consistency of an OCD patient. My anticipation builds. When Mike Hampton suffers a season-ending injury, I know the time is near.

And I realize that all the ink spilled in the preseason, all the clichés, all the gushing, all the nostalgia, all the would-be poets detailing their childhood memories…it’s all true.

Baseball is the best game there is.

Triples in the gap…home plate collisions…perfectly executed 4-6-3 double plays…Ryan Howard’s moon shots…Tim Lincecum’s curveball…Joe Mauer hitting everything…Torii Hunter being a maestro in centerfield…the mere existence of Chad Billingsley…each one a thing of beauty, each one filling my curly-headed heart with joy.

Unfortunately, when James Earl Jones spoke about things that were once good and could be again, he was not referring to my fantasy team. The Darling Asteroids are in for a long, long season. I botched my first ever auction draft and ended up with too few offensive players, too many pitchers and enough regret to fill the chasms in Citi Field. We will get into specifics in the future, but trust me—the climb towards pretend-eternal glory will be steep.

I also drafted Melky Cabrera. Whatever.

Fortunately, the goings-on in reality figure to be exciting enough to distract us from the Darlings’ shortcomings.

Will Roy Halladay manhandle the National League? (Probably)

How many Yankees-Red Sox games will be nationally televised? (53)

Is Albert Pujols mortal? (No)

So many questions, and so many questions yet to be asked. It’s like an episode of LOST, except there will be answers. There might even be a Jose Lima sighting if we’re lucky. Coming up next: dissecting the Darling Asteroids’ woefully uninspiring offense, which is downright offensive.

See what I did there?

The boys are back in town in a few short days. Get ready.