My passion for baseball

So, I had a friend tonight who's still in college ask me to help her with an assignment. She's a Spanish major and her assignment was to ask a big baseball fan why baseball is their [or our nation's] favorite sport. This assignment somehow ties into how most people think that Latin American/Spanish people only like soccer, but in fact there is a huge fanbase for baseball among these Latin nationalities. Either way, that question that would seemingly be a simple or semi-short answer turned into an essay for me. I told her I was just going to start thinking back on the time when I got into it, and move forward with the story, letting my memories flow out onto the virtual paper as they came to me. It is now, more-or-less, an essay. That being said, I really enjoyed reliving a lot of those memories and thought I'd share it here with you all too. Hit up the comment section after the break and let me know what you think.


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Why is baseball your favorite sport?
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Baseball became my favorite sport when I was about 12 years old. I wasn't a fan of any sport at the time, really. I just loved playing outside as all kids do. I wasn't raised by parents who were fans of any particular sport, so I just didn't really experience it much.

But when I was 12, a close friend asked me to play little league baseball with him. I didn't think I would be able to because of mom’s work schedule and didn't think I would be able to make it to some of the games. His dad was his coach though, and they get two choices to "freeze" players so they don't get picked for different teams. His dad froze me and his son, so this way he could pick me up and take us both to the games. My mom was able to come to most, if not all, of the games, but she just wasn't able to get me there at the time I needed to be there.

It was about this time that I developed a passion for baseball. As I learned more about the game, there became nothing I liked more than playing catch in my friend’s field, pretending we were the greatest of the great outfielders of the time, making spectacular catches (i.e. Ken Griffey Jr.). It didn't matter to me how miserably hot it was outside. While playing baseball, the elements were never a bother--no matter how extreme they were. I would play in three feet of snow if there were enough willing people.

I began watching the Atlanta Braves on TV around this time as well. I immersed myself in the sport to try to learn more and get better. Through playing the game, and watching it at home, my mom developed an interest in the sport and she became quite a big fan of the Braves as well. When I was 13, mom brought me to my first Atlanta Braves game. My interest in the sport skyrocketed even more. Being at the game in person was an experience like no other. The place feels enormous to a 13 year old. There's a certain grandness about it that's hard to put into words. You're in close proximity of role models and superstars--those you watch on TV and strive to imitate on the little league field. Then there are the aromatic clouds of hotdog, cotton candy, and roasted peanut smells as you walk by concession stands. Then there's the thrilling excitement of reaching up into a crowd full of hands, hoping that the foul ball headed your way will actually make it into your own. I caught one of these once, albeit it was a homerun, and not a foul ball. The rush was incredible, and only increased when the home team chanted at me to "throw it back", as the homerun did not belong to our team. And then it sailed back onto the infield. I'm still not sure to this day if that was the coolest or the stupidest thing I've ever done, baseball wise anyway. Part of me wishes I still had the baseball fan's ultimate souvenir.

Another reason baseball excites me to the core is that it is NEVER one sided. I don't care if it's 10-0 and late in the game. It can still turn around. I've seen it. For example, at the first Atlanta Braves game I attended the Braves were losing 6-0 in the 6th inning to the Philadelphia Phillies. At the time, Philly was the worst team in the Eastern Division, so it was pretty depressing to be losing to them during my first trip to Atlanta's stadium. The next inning, the Braves' bats could not be stopped, and they hit two (2) grand slams in that one inning. Count the runs in that. Eight. The Braves scored eight runs on two grand slams that inning, and went on to win the game 10-6. You never heard so much thundering excitement, whistling, clapping, and hollering in your life. The energy that was created in that inning was indescribable.

I'd have to say though, that the energy in that moment was topped a few years later in 1999, when I had the ultimate privilege of attending Game 1 of the World Series--Braves vs. Yankees. We sat in the 2nd to the top row in the upper deck of the stadium--by far the highest up we'd ever had to sit at a Braves game (mind you, these were $100/seat tickets, so we bought what we could afford). It was mid-October. It was freezing cold...something about 40-50 degrees with a wind chill factor of about 10 degrees less than that if I had to guess. There was no empty seat in the stadium, and that's not an exaggeration. It was elbow-to-elbow with like-minded fans and unlike-minded opposing guests, all cheering and jeering alike. But then when the pre-game singing of the national anthem started, and we saw the enormous American flag manned by what seemed like hundreds of people, stretched from left field all the way to right field, a silent hush fell over everyone. Though we were not all in agreeance to whom we wanted to win the game, there was a unified respect in the air around us for our nation. A few patriotic verses and colorful fireworks later, the umpire yelled "PLAY BALL!", and a thunder of cheers swept across the sea of people. Though I had attended many professional baseball games by this time in my life, this was, without a doubt, a brand new experience on all facets of the game. This game is never, ever the same. And that’s one of the many reasons why I’m passionate about it.