Baseball is upon us, and even though the mean, nasty, venal Lords of the Game (the owners) have tried to take the joy out of it, I still can’t wait until Opening Day. Yes, the players make ridiculously obscene sums of money, but I try to get past that and focus on THE GAME. Unlike football, basketball, and hockey, baseball has suffered no significant rule changes (except for the Designated Hitter) since Christ was a tadpole. Baseball is STILL baseball. (Besides, who wants to watch a pitcher batting .037 trying to hit a curve ball??)
I grew up with Cesar Tovar, Tony Oliva, Harmon Killebrew, and the rest of the Minnesota Twins teams that were consistent contenders in the late ‘60s. Back then, I even knew how to keep score. To a kid who grew up in the frozen climes of northern Minnesota, baseball meant SPRINGTIME. It meant being able to go outside without a snowmobile suit on and throw a ball around in my shirtsleeves. It meant I no longer had to use the words “wind chill”.
Now I can go watch the Houston Astros play in Enron- oops- Astros Field. There is still something magical about the geometrical perfection of a baseball diamond. Astros Field, simply put, is to baseball fields what the Crystal Cathedral is to churches. The lines are straight and pure, the grass is uniformly green, and the infield clay is packed to the consistency of a perfectly-leveled pool table. There is an almost preternaturally religious quality to it- until you go to the concession stand for a $5 beer and a $4 hot dog.
My Twins survived Satan (aka Bud Selig) and Lucifer (Carl Pohlad) trying to contract the team into oblivion. Unless the Twins get a commitment this year for a new stadium, they may not survive into next season. If they can secure a commitment for a decent outdoor stadium, they might actually have a future. Baseball was meant to be played outdoors on real grass, not in the sterile environs of the Metrodome. Of course, anyone who has actually attended an outdoor baseball game in Minnesota in early April might argue with me on that point....
For now, though, I will enjoy the Twins’ (and the Astros) presence, and the resurrection of the game of baseball. If all goes well, I'll be in the stands at Astros Field on Opening Day. Winter is drawing to an end, and Spring is nigh. Hope really does spring eternal.
I'm still calling the place Homerun Field. And it looks beautiful on tv, even if there's a retarded hill in centerfield just begging to snap a center fielder's leg.
by jesus at March 5, 2002 5:56 PM
It does look like a lawsuit looking for a place to happen doesn't it??
Sure, the left field porch is only 315 feet, which is ridiculous. Keep in mind, though, that the right field porch at Yankee Stadium is something like 314 feet, and no one EVER complains about that. What up wi' dat??
by northstar at March 5, 2002 6:04 PM