Monday, February 9, 2009

hope springs eternal

Okay, no more talk of he-who-shall-not-be-named, no more controversy, no more bologna. We're in the final days before the new season takes flight, and the world is just much too wonderful a place right now to stay bogged down with ugliness and idle gossip any longer. 

The weather is a-warming, the birds are a-singing, and the players are a-heading south. 

I've never been to a Spring Training game before, and I'd really like to see one someday. Maybe next year. (If for nothing more than a little Florida sunshine.) 

Can't you just feel the warmth on your face? Smell the field? Hear the crowd? Well, thanks to C70, I can, and I'm ready to spread the joy. Imagine yourself at the park. It's dusk, and the last traces of sunset are disappearing behind the stands. The heat from the day is slowly replaced by a cool evening breeze. The stadium lights shine down on the field below, and the players take their positions. The announcer calls out names over the loudspeaker, and the crowd responds with wild applause and loud stomps as the players wave in acknowledgement. Taste your cold beer. Smell the hot dogs grilling. Hear the chatter and laughter as fans file into their seats. Ahhh, baseball. 

Here are some of my favorite baseball onomatopoeias/ideophones (AKA words that are fun to say): 

The slap of his hand in the glove; 

The rustle of feet in the dirt; 

The tap of the bat on the ground; 

The thud of the ball into the catcher's mitt; 

The bark of the umpire; 

The flash of the cameras; 

The crack of the bat; 

The roar of the crowd; 

The boom of the fireworks; 

The flap of the flags; 

The pulse of Cardinal Nation. 

For what it's worth, I think it's going to be a good season. I'm done complaining. It's officially time to turn the roster and playbook over to Tony. Let's play some ball. (Or rather, let's watch people far more talented play some ball while we live and die by every pitch.)