Opening Day

Today is Opening Day in baseball. Virtually every metaphor has been employed by sportswriters as they craft their annual columns about the Rites of Spring. Every ballplayer has had a chance to be quoted saying, "We're all undefeated on Opening Day. Anything can happen." Hope springs eternal in the baseball fan's breast.

But it's a very unhealhy day. For one thing, a highly disproportionate number of workers call in sick on this day every year. Allergies, I guess. But even more serious are the mental health problems that crop up. People begin thinking crazy things. They start thinking, if you can believe it, that there's hope.

I'm a Kansas City Royals fan. Last year they lost 106 games--the worst in baseball. Over the last decade they've set new standards of ineptitude. The Yankees payroll is about five times higher than the small market Royals. Fans of the Royals have no reason to hope.

But then the mental illness sets in. Rationality fades in the spring breeze. Untested rookies become phenoms-in-waiting. Aging journeymen become wise clubhouse veterans. Managers with career losing records become master tacticians. And that paltry payroll? Well, you've heard of the loaves and fishes.

Oh, it's crazy thinking all right. But spare me the burden of sanity. It's Opening Day.

I think life needs an annual Opening Day. In life we have too few fresh starts. It's too difficult to wipe out that losing season or abysmal ERA. Life needs the crazed promise of spring with its goofy optimism, its undeserved absolution, and its blissful hope.

Life needs something akin to mustard and relish on an Opening Day ballpark hot dog. One bite and losing seasons are forgotten, broken spirits are healed, and discouraging thoughts are purged. It's time for the first pitch. Play ball!

p.s. Today my team, the Royals, played the Tigers, one of the other worst teams in baseball. We lost 3-1. But there were some hopeful signs. We'll get 'em on Wednesday. After all, it's only Opening Day.