First Game. Or So It Begins. Again.

We are a baseball family.

The sound of metal cleats on concrete.  The sunflower seeds that I will now find EVERYWHERE.  The endless loads of laundry (thank God there are no white pants!).  A beautiful curve ball that completely baffles the batter.  Left-handed hitters that pull the ball.  A perfectly executed double play.  Packing my trunk with the baseball bag and the baseball blanket again.

Oh, how I love this time of year.

Or at least I used to?  I think I still do.

Today marks the first baseball game of our season.  As happy as I am for the distraction this provides me and the joy that watching the games brings me, I am also reminded, once again, of what is missing.  Do you suppose I'll ever watch a baseball game without thinking that Bill should be there too?  I can't answer that.

Baseball has always been "our" thing.  It was never just something that belonged solely to me, like say, knitting.  No, baseball belonged to us.  Bill played, I watched.  The boys played, Bill coached, and I still watched.  Sometimes Bill watched but mostly he coached.  He loved the game.  I think he loved the game more than anything else in the world.  More than hunting and fishing even.  He saw things and  understood things about baseball that I never did.  It was like he saw the game in another dimension, one that I couldn't see.  I loved listening to him talk about it with the few people who he felt respected the game enough to deserve the conversation (and I think y'all know who you are!).

Risking sounding like a fool, I believe there is magic in baseball.

So today I will pack up my trunk with my trusty blanket that has seen years and years of baseball at hundreds of different parks on both coasts.  I will pack my special bag with fresh snacks, sunscreen, bug spray, and the other necessities I have found to be essential to my bleacher riding time.  There will be a new, mindless knitting project that will see me through the new season.  And I will find my seat, a little to the left of home plate, and I will take it all in.  Always aware, though, that my favorite player/coach/spectator won't be there to share that other dimension with me.