A Love Letter to Opening Day

I like you.

The reasons should be obvious: You make me laugh, you make me think, you've got a good heart and you're so easy on the eyes it's ridiculous.

Like any good American I like a nice, cold beer after a long day of work.

I like dogs, and I like bow ties...but I don't like dogs wearing bow ties.

I like sleeping in on weekends, ordering a cheesesteak for lunch and convincing myself that beating Megaman counts as a successful Saturday.

Not only do I enjoy watching TV, but I'm also really, really good at it.

I'm a maestro with the remote control. Flipping channels like a boss, back right before the commercial break's over, oh no, what channel is TBS again? Don't worry, baby, I got this.

It's a skill.

I like sunsets, long walks on the beach and making obvious jokes.

I like root beer floats, the comedic stylings of Louis C.K. and the Canadian national anthem.

I really, really like grape juice.

If you asked me to have a Liam Neeson movie marathon, I would not say no. We can even watch Love Actually, but only if there's cuddling (at which, suffice it to say, I'm also fantastic).

I like getting the final Jeopardy! question right, but only if all my roommates get it wrong.

I get a chuckle every time I think of the only two jokes my Dad knows, one of which involves food, the other of which I can't print here.

I'm always going to like Return of the Jedi more than The Empire Strikes Back, and you nerds are just going to have to deal with it.

I like watching old wrestling matches on Youtube, and have spent too much of my spare time comparing and contrasting the careers of Albert Pujols and "The Heartbreak Kid" Shawn Michaels.

No, seriously...do you have any grape juice?

I believe that few things are as thrilling as a Final Four buzzer beater, that playoff hockey is just plain awesome, and that the Monday after the Super Bowl should be a national holiday.

I like barbecue in the summer, hot apple cider in the fall and great big hugs every day of the year.


But I love baseball.

I love bases-clearing doubles to the gap. I love going from first to third on a hit-and-run. I love 12-to-6 curveballs and backward Ks.

I love dollar dog nights, throwback uniforms and any player who wears high socks (especially you, Joe Blanton).

I love the sound of 40,000 fans groaning at ball four, trying to convince the umpire it caught the corner when it was really a foot outside.

I love that baseball reminds me of summertime, which in turn reminds me of early Bruce Springsteen records. Baseball is my #1, but the Boss is a close second.

If you're a female with a nice smile and intimate knowledge of the infield fly rule, please email me immediately.

I love watching games with fans of rival teams, then arguing about check swings as if anyone knows what the hell they're talking about.

Mets fan: "That was a strike. Come on."
Me: "No way, bro. His wrists didn't break."
Mets fan: "Oh, really? Well lucky me! 'Breaking wrists' and 'offering at a pitch' are the vaguest and most poorly defined rules in baseball, and we could argue forever about any close call, but lookie here, the one person in the world who can define it just happens to be gracing us with his brilliant presence. So out with it, Doubleday...just what exactly does it mean?"

(This is the part where I retreat into the darkness, drenched in humiliation)

(On a completely unrelated note, fuck the Mets)

But oh Jesus, Mary and Nomar Garciaparra, do I love baseball.

I love watching Aroldis Chapman pitch.

His gangly arms and legs winding up, his right knee lifting to a picture-perfect point like some Czechoslovakian ballerina, all concluding with a blink-and-you-miss-it, record-breaking 105-MPH laser beam.

I love watching Carlos Pena hit.

A summa cum laude grad from Swing Hard In Case You Hit It University, Carlos waits and waits until the absolute last moment before whipping his hands around in a violent motion, his bat ripping through the atmosphere like a man possessed.

I love that so much of the game is set in stone...

The count is 2-0? You're getting a fastball.
Winning by three? Warm up the closer.
First pitch of the game? Don't you dare swing, you heartless bastard.

...but still, after so much strategy follows such a strict template, one or two little things happen every game that I've never seen before.

In fact, the Brewers led off their season with back-to-back homers.

When was the last time Peyton Manning hit back-to-back homers?

Exactly.

Basically, baseball is my favorite thing.

Not my favorite sport, not my favorite hobby, not my favorite way to kill time on a lazy Saturday (after I've beaten Megaman and celebrated with a cheesesteak).

No, it's my favorite thing...period.

And it's finally back.

Like the perfect summer romance it will be here every day for the next few months, make my heart race time and again, provide ample amounts of excitement and disappointment, then fade away like an echo once the leaves begin to change.

But don't worry. It always returns at the first sight of spring...and like the best of pals, we'll pick up right where we left off.

Welcome back, old friend.