Today is the day.
Today as the light from the morning sun spills over the mountains, trees and skyscrapers, the nicest lawns in America will be revealed. Patches of grass that men can only dream would be their front yards will be more beautiful than the turquoise water of the Caribbean and more majestic than Niagara Falls.
Today as men wake, they will become their 8-year-old selves on Christmas. They’ll be giddy to leap out of bed and begin their favorite day of the year.
Today entire offices will take their break at 1 p.m. to crowd into the nearest break room and turn on the 15-inch TV or crank up the small boom box radio. No one will make a peep for fear of missing even the most unimportant foul ball — the first in a long line of balls players don’t care about but will become a No. 1 moment for the lucky fan who catches it.
Today men will become children, seemingly peering out from beneath a cap two sizes too big in hopes a ball will be hit their way. And children will become men, striving to call pitches and yell with assertion about the base-running error their father began to yell about first.
Today men and women will all be equal. No matter if they’re white, black, yellow, dark, tan or some mix, today people are simply just fans.
Today religion does not matter. Catholics, Jews, Protestants, Methodists, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, Taoists and even atheists will all be bonded by the religion of baseball.
Today the songs of that religion — the CRACK, THWOP, SMACK and FFFFF of the game — will all meld into a symphony that is more intense than Beethoven, yet more delicate than Mozart.
Today the meal prepared on the alter is America’s ballpark dinner: the hot dog — the taste of which is only enhanced at the ballpark and cannot be recreated away from it.
Today people will lay down their arms if only to join in other rivalries, ones that go back to their parents, and their grandparents and their grandparents’ parents, and so on.
Today begins a war, one that will involve 162 battles. Some will be easy, some will be hard, but all will matter by October, when the best will rise to the top like creamy fat in a bucket of fresh milk.
Today will soon turn to night, but attention will not waver. People will still crowd together at the bar or in the living room with a bowl of pretzels or popcorn and an ice-cold beer to watch the game until they fall asleep, happier than the biggest man at the Thanksgiving table or the child who finished Christmas dinner with sweets he or she can eat on only that day.
And when fans wake tomorrow, it will all be gone. Men and women will go back to hitting the snooze button until they’re late for work. Ballparks won’t fill to capacity again until the fall. And hotdogs will be saved for the Fourth of July cookout or when kids refuse to eat the Brussels sprout casserole.
But for today, all will be right. All will come together to create the most beautiful day of the year.
For today is Opening Day.
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