I find myself without a dark and cynical excuse to hate baseball. It is as if a long and brutally cold winter has passed and the fields of spring have erupted in a joyous riot of wildflowers. I will not apologize for my joy. I have said that baseball is the most beautiful of all sports. I did not believe I would ever see the Cubs, my Cubs, win the World Series. It is amazing how much we secretly invest in hopelessness and despair, even over things that are trivial-like a boys game, like baseball.
Yet, there it is, another lesson from the most beautiful sport. Baseball teaches us that on the grass and in the sun and the spring breeze is where we should spend all our afternoons. It teaches us that the efforts of a single man can overcome overwhelming opposition. It teaches us that we can think our way into and out of trouble. It teaches us that size, age and speed are not as important as we think. It teaches us that patience is The Virtue. It teaches us that our hearts belong outside with our bodies.
It may sound a little silly to those who have never loved baseball, just as love itself sounds silly to those who have not loved, but I thank God for lifting this darkness from me and restoring my hope and filling my heart with joy. How silly it may sound, but isn't hope silly.
I cannot wait until baseball season begins anew in the fields of spring. Way to go Cubs.