I recently saw this on a t-shirt and I was automatically inspired to write about my love of baseball.
Baseball. America’s past time. A sport so fine, it’s played on a diamond. The game of baseball is truly one of the best. It’s so unpredictable, so suspenseful and despite what some people say, it’s definitely not boring. Balls and strikes, runs and outs, base hits and home runs; every single component of the game makes for an adventure.
I’m sure my parents would disagree, but I’m 100% sure I was born with a Mets jersey on. From my earliest memories up until now, my love for the game has never changed. I bleed orange and blue; I even have “Ya Gotta Believe” tattooed on my arm. There was a time that it wasn’t as important to me, but I blame my angst teenage years for that. I played softball for 12 years, and even though I wasn’t very good, I loved the game too much to care. I was too busy having fun and winning games to care.
Most people will say that December, mainly around Christmas, is the most wonderful time of the year. For me the most wonderful time of the year is Spring Training. Why? Because it means that baseball season is right around the corner. That day when pitchers and catchers report, whether it be to Florida or Arizona, brings out the greatest feeling in the world. I see Spring Training as an extended version of Christmas Eve. Everyday you wake up feeling excited, optimistic and pure joy; each day is a step closer to Christmas Day aka Opening Day.
Ah, Opening Day. I can never sleep that night before Opening Day. Instead, I just imagine getting back to the ballpark to watch my team. That morning, I get ready and get out of the house faster than any other day in my life. I get on that first train ride of an 162 game season and off we go! The train ride usually feels like it’s taking forever, so I usually spend my time thinking about what I’m going to eat when I get there (Citi Field has the best ballpark food, in my totally biased opinion. #sorrynotsorry). Opening Day should be a national holiday.
The excitement builds as I walk up to Citi Field. I stand on-line, go through security and then I’m finally in! I most likely have a goofy smile on my face at that moment, but knowing that I’m about to grab some food and a beer before sitting in my seats, to watch the greatest sport, is worth looking like a dork for. I’m truly the happiest girl in the world when I’m at Citi Field watching my New York Mets play baseball.
Baseball has taught me loyalty, passion and love. Not saying that other things in my life haven’t instilled those qualities in the person that I am, but there is something about sports and being a sports fan that really tests those attributes and makes them stronger. This past year, I was tested in a lot of different ways. When I attended my first baseball game of 2017, it was the first free shirt Friday giveaway. The Mets gave away long sleeve shirts that read, “There’s No Place Like Home”; and then it hit me.
The game of baseball, the Mets, help me heal and they let me forget. When I’m at a baseball game, I can just be me; my true authentic self. I’m so glad that I have a place, and a passion that gives me the desire to keep on going. Baseball gives me the happiness that I sometimes can’t give myself. The Mets could be getting obliterated or winning 7-0, I’m still thrilled to be watching each moment. When I’m at a baseball game, watching my favorite team, I’m free.