Opening Day

“Just what is so great about baseball?” my thirteen-year-old son asked me on Opening Day.

Horrified that any offspring of mine could fail to love the game as much as I do, I scrambled for a response, but all I could come up with in the moment was, “Baseball is America and summer and everything that is good in life, and the only way to get through winter is by counting down the days until pitchers and catchers report.” 

He didn’t understand. He’s thirteen and he’s grown up in my house and he doesn’t understand, and this defies all logic.

I was raised just outside of Peoria, Illinois, halfway between Chicago and St. Louis. Peoria is divided territory. My dad was a Cardinals fan. If it was a Saturday afternoon in June, my dad had probably just finished mowing the lawn and he was falling asleep on the couch while Mike Shannon and Jack Buck called the strikes and balls on the radio. It was the soundtrack of summer.

We went out to eat at the Washington Family Restaurant in the days when children were expected to be seen, not heard, so I ate my pork tenderloin in silence and stared at the pictures on the wall of Lou Brock, Bob Gibson, Joe Torre, Al Hrabosky, Keith Hernandez, Bob Forsch…. my childhood heroes.

The first time I heard the crack of a bat hitting a ball in the old Busch Stadium is etched indelibly in my memory. 

I drank my first Budweiser with my dad and my grandpa at Ray’s Patio Inn: a dark and cozy Cardinals’ establishment on the corner of Loucks and Hanssler Place. We watched the game on the 19-inch tv over the bar while slopping runny crock cheese on Ritz crackers. It was a rite of passage.

My little brother liked the Cubs. He liked the Cubs just to piss off my dad. Some of my friends liked the Cubs. They were still my friends despite our differences. Yes, we were loyal to different teams, but we were all loyal to baseball and we all agreed that the designated hitter is just plain wrong. 

I’m madly in love with a Cubs fan, believe it or not. 

World peace could be had, I believe, if the Cubs/Cardinals rivalry could be replicated in politics. 

But then there’s the American League. 

Oh well. It’s still baseball.