There is a danger in human nature, an insidious and silent danger that does not look us in the eye and intimidate us with demands to hand over our joy, but rather trades for it, little by little, convincing us that our childlike enjoyment should be valued less than Very Serious Analysis and skepticism. “We’ll not be fooled again by hope,” we think, fooled again by The Danger as we abandon our technicolor smiles for gray furrowed brows and thoughtful skepticism. We stop jumping off rooftops into swimming pools and we learn to appreciate the beauty of unbroken bones and hearts.
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We learn to care less because caring less means losing less. We fill the heights and the depths of our hearts with a smooth beige caulk, and we live in the middle ground, the emotionless and aloof, and we never again look so stupid as we did in our youth when we were crestfallen by disappointment in this or in that. We’re too smart for that now, we think. We are wise now, we are safe, and we are boring.
And yet…
Once or twice a year, our new, safe, one-story heart is infiltrated by a light too pure to be shut out by something so intangible as cynicism.
Opening Day, even an Opening Day cloaked in fog and clouds, is one such light.
Goodbye long winter, hello Joey Gallo bombs into the porch. Goodbye, Spring Training, hello Beltre and Elvis and the relentless mischief of brotherhood. Goodbye free-agent uncertainty and infinite hot-stove rumors, hello Jake Diekman, malevolent manticore, hello Keone Kela, human Hulk. Goodbye to old friends Mike Napoli and A.J. Griffin and Andrew Cashner and Carlos Gomez, hello to new friends Tim Lincecum and Bartolo Colon and Mike Minor and Doug Fister and Matt Moore.
How long any of them will be around is anyone’s guess. Tomorrow, we can sink back into the dulling of age, the cautious understanding that nothing is forever. But there is yet hope every time the light breaks through. There is hope that wisdom will remind us that these heights and depths are still there, like old bedrooms with our toys still unbroken and our beds still big enough to hide in. We can visit these rooms more often. Wisdom and Joy can hold hands and confidently lean back for balance without an ensuing tug-of-war.
So for today, welcome, one and all. Welcome, green grass and pristine foul lines. Welcome, pure white uniforms, and welcome to the streaks of dirt that will soon sully them. Welcome, diving catches and stolen bases and changeups and home runs and hot dogs and peanuts. Today, we are children, and we will love again with no hesitation. We will cheer and we will groan, and we will care with abandon.
Welcome, Opening Day.
