The days of putting the lumber to the ball, sending the winner over the fence, out of the park, beyond the lights and into the hearts of baseball fans, are here and will be until the end of October. These are the days of hotdogs and beer, and talking about the miraculous snag at second
base for weeks to come. Baseball season is the season of childhood, of rooting for the home team, of believing that lives are actually changed between the mound and home plate, and dreams are shattered by a good glove in right field. There will be rain delays, even snow delays, and nights when our sticks are off target, but in the end we will know that those hours we spent in the stands made us a part of the greatest American tradition
there is. It's a shortstop that can catch standing on his head and a pitcher that never slips below 95 in seven innings, or that kid way out in center field who seems to hover in the air as he brings in the one that was supposed to go all the way, and the guy at first base who controls the infield with his endless, screaming reach. We want them to be heroes because they are the Rockies and they belong to us. It's baseball and we're ready to play. Share this: Share
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