It’s Opening Day. And as I do most Opening Days, I awake this morning struggling to place it in its proper perspective.
On the one hand, it’s a time for celebration and jubilation. After a long cold winter, our passion is back. And as so many have before us, we’re tempted to render it into purple prose. To hang red, white and blue verbal bunting from every facade and to offer odes to cut grass, bats cracking, hot dogs and organ music.
But to shoot the wad on Opening Day like that has itself become cliche. Indeed, on this day — and extending through the weekend, I assume — your casual fan coworkers will be overly excited about the return of the game. Your local paper will devote prime real estate to it all. Dilettantes of all stripes will come out of the woodwork to revel in what they will, for now, call our National Pastime.