"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."
- "Field of Dreams": Adapted from Shoeless Joe by W.P. Kinsella
The 2014 Major League Baseball season began this week, and a season of hope sprung for 30 franchises chasing the dream of playing a summer game on a cold October night for the World Series Championship.
This is the one sporting time of year that our house is divided...me being a St. Louis Cardinals fan and Katy being an Atlanta Braves fan. It helps our relationship that our teams play in different divisions, but it can make for a tricky week or 2 at points during the season, especially if our teams make the playoffs. Soon, we will have another member of our family...will she choose the Braves, the Cardinals, another team or no team at all?
As I write this, there are 156 games to go in this regular season.
I love baseball for many reasons: memories of St. Louis, keeping a scorecard, ice cream in mini-helmets, the smell of a grass field, the anticipation of action before a pitch, hot dogs, playing catch, the crack of a bat, statistics, family; but mainly I love it because perfection in baseball is borne out of struggle.
Consider this...the 20 best hitters in the history of a game that pre-dates the Civil War succeeded only in 1/3 of their plate appearances. In any other sport an average success rate near 30% passing, shooting or scoring would be unacceptable, at least, and cause for never playing the game again. However, hitting in baseball is arguably the most difficult feat in sport.
The history of the game is littered with stories of trial, error and ultimately success. Imagine playing your entire life as a pitcher, earning a roster sport on a major league team, earning an 11-7 record in your first full season, and following that up with one of the worst performances ever in baseball. This is the story of Rick Ankiel, but it doesn't end there. He would reform his career in baseball as an outfielder, and play for 6 more seasons in the big leagues.
The seasons come and go. Seasons have begun to leave indelible marks on my life as the seasons roll on. Fans fill ballparks and witness all of the outs until 1 champion is crowned.
Who knows what the 2014 season holds? Not me...but I know that I will watch it.
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