Dear Baseball,
I love you.
I know we just met and it seems a little fast but, you have
my heart and I don’t think I’m ever going to get it back.
I’m really sorry it took me so long to notice you. I know
you’ve been trying to catch my eye for awhile and it wasn’t until recently that
I finally paid attention. I think you were going about it the wrong way, though.
I’m not trying to blame you. I’m just saying, it wasn’t fair for you to try and
get my attention by using a boy.
You should know that approach isn’t very successful for me.
It doesn’t make for a very long lasting relationship. Sure, I pretended to like
you for awhile in the 90’s, pretended to know about Mike Piazza and The Dodgers
because some boy said it was cool. But, to be honest with you, my heart just
wasn’t in it and as soon as my interest for said boy faded, so did my interest
in you. I didn’t really understand at the time just how fabulous you were.
I’m sorry.
Now, I know.
I get it now, Baseball.
I understand that I don’t have to like you because some boy
said I should. In fact, none of the boys in my life care about you very much. I
figured out all on my own, sitting on my couch, in a quiet house, hour after
hour, pitch after pitch, no boys necessary, just how special you are. In fact, the person I've talked to most about you is the BFF Megan. She's loved you for a long time.
When we’re
together, it feels like nothing else in the world matters, even if just for a
few hours. You’re smart. You’re oh so smart, especially your catcher. Seriously,
the dude has to know everything about every guy on every team. Game after game,
pitch after pitch, swing after swing.
Catchers have my heart.
And your pitchers? Really? How awesome are those guys? You’ve
got the one guy, the starter, who throws like, 100 pitches a game. Then, when
he’s done his job and he’s tired, you’ve got all of these other guys hanging
out, just waiting to come in and throw a few more pitches, get a few more outs,
not even caring that they don’t get the ‘win’. They just throw their little
hearts out, whenever they’re needed.
Pitchers are amazing.
You are constantly changing. Wind and rain drops and
freezing weather and sunny days. You’re never the same twice. I love that about
you. I love the opening pitch and the seventh inning stretch. I love the music
and the announcers and the history.
You really love your history don’t you, Baseball? That’s so
sexy.
I do have another confession to make. I may have fallen in
love with you at the same time I fell in love with the San Francisco Giants.
I know, I know. That makes me a…what do they call it…A
bandwagon fan? Guess what?
I. don’t. care.
If we’re going to be a thing it only makes sense to have a
team to root for and what better team than this one? Sure, they just won the
World Series. Sure it sounds like I only like them because they did that. It
really couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth is, I like these guys
because they are a hell of a team to like. Let’s look at the evidence.
There’s this guy:
He won me a free taco by stealing a base. C’mon, you know
how much I love my tacos.
And this guy:
He scored three home runs in game one. THREE! He’s, like, the
fourth guy in history to do that or something. And when he does something great
on the field, he makes this little heart with his hands. That’s adorable. His
nickname is Panda. AND he’s a hell of a third baseman. Did you see some of
those catches? I didn’t stand a chance against this guy.
And how about him?
This kid is hilarious. He’s constantly photo bombing people
(Or Romobombing) and always has the cutest smile on his face. Then, he comes
out, at all of 25 years old, and throws the final out against a Triple Crown
winner to win game four and sweep the series.
Seriously?
This guy reminds me of someone from Oildale.
This guy stole my heart in game one with an awesome show.
This guy is just too damn hot for words PLUS he’s a hell of
a short stop. In fact, my kids have been telling the husband, "Mommy really likes Brandon."
And THIS guy, well, lets be honest, I just want to hang out
with this guy in Eric Foreman’s basement.
Even though the names will change, even though they won’t
always win the World Series, even though I’m sure they’ll break my heart
sometimes, it doesn’t matter. I left my heart in San
Francisco and that’s where it’s going to stay.
I never thought I could fall so hard and so fast for someone
I just met and now, you tell me you’re leaving for a little while. What am I
going to do without you for the next four months? How am I going to make it?
You know what? It’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll
be right here waiting for you when you get back.
I’m in for life, Baseball.
I love you.
See you in February.
Forever yours,
Krysten
PS. If I have anything to say about it, this kid in my womb will be a baseball lover, too. I'll let her know, right up front, that she doesn't have to wait for a boy to tell her baseball is cool. She can figure it out all on her own, just like I did. =)
