Opening Day

It is the long awaited opening day of baseball season.  Never mind that the weather outside feels more like late winter than early spring.  This is the day when fans are assured that life goes on, that new life comes in the spring.  It is religion and warfare and history and pagentry all rolled up in fresh clean uniforms and pristine green grass.  Here in Cincinnati, there is an opening day parade -- a tradition that goes back decades and decades.  The tickets to the game sell out within minutes of the ticket windows opening.  The fans flood into the ballpark, decked out in the jerseys of their favorite players, and the atmosphere is electric.

Embedded in this very first baseball game of the season are all the hopes and dreams.  The disappointments of last season are a fading memory, and we dare to believe again.  On this day, all teams are even.  There are no wins and no losses.  The books where all the stats are recorded are empty.  This day bears with it the promise of warm summer nights and long, hot afternoons under the sun of July.  On this cold, blustery first of April, the thunderstorms of July and the excitement of October are all present, just waiting to be born.

Most years, I have been in my classroom as the opening salvo of the long, long baseball season takes place. Often, it is a half-empty classroom as the parents take their young ones out of school to partake in the communal insanity that grips this town on this first day of the "new year."  This year, the Easter holiday and the opening day coincide, and I am home for the festivities.  Later, we'll have a dinner of, what else, hot dogs, and hopefully celebrate a first game win.

This year, the rebirth that is opening day seems a promise on all kinds of levels.

swan