The crack of a bat pierces the air. A fan next to you spills their beer, reaching to catch a foul ball. You feel the hot sun on your back as you look across the sprawling green on a warm summer day. Baseball is a beautiful game, defined by the absence of a time constraint and its status as the sport of the summertime. That’s why, on a dreary day in February, there’s nothing better than opening up my Twitter (or X if you are an Elon stan) feed and seeing MLB’s announcement that the Red Sox pitchers and catchers reported to spring training sites — “Baseball is so back.”
Where seasons are present in the United States, like my home of New England, Punxsutawney Phil and his famous walk on Feb. 2 dictates the onset of spring for many people. Phil is cute, traditional and annoyingly pessimistic. Baseball, on the other hand, serves its role in the sports calendar admirably. Football announces the fall alongside beautiful foliage; basketball and hockey introduce the winter ahead; and baseball gives hope that warmth and light will return.
When I moved out to Southern California for school, I left the seasons and my teams behind. While I will never claim to miss the seasonal depression that comes with the eternal slush, darkness at 4 p.m. and bone-chilling cold back home, there is something satisfying about coming out of wintertime. Here, with the unrelenting desert climate, it is only through my connection to the Red Sox, and baseball in general, that I am reminded that the seasons are changing and summer is on the horizon.
Baseball keeps my seasonal clock consistent even as the weather never changes. Phil, seeing his shadow, brings back dark memories of wintertime and makes it feel like midterms season will last another six weeks. That’s just too much of a gamble to be something to look forward to. In contrast, I know I’ll for sure see my favorite players walking out for their first at bat of the spring.
When Roman Anthony steps up to the plate in sunny Fort Meyers, my heart warms. All of a sudden, the weight of winter is lifted from my shoulders. I can picture the Green Monster in left field. I can smell the peanuts in the seat next to me, and I can feel the sun I’ve missed, beating down on my face. But more than that, home doesn’t feel so far away. My phone blows up with texts from my high school friends every time a Red Sox player blasts a home run or makes a spectacular pitch. I can see the rest of what summer break brings: sitting on the beach with friends, working a job that pays more than $16.90 an hour and just feeling the relaxed vibe.
Knowing my time back home isn’t so far away means more than just seeing friends and watching baseball. I don’t go home for spring break, and many of my friends from the East Coast don’t either. It comes down to the fact that traveling with our friends — valuable college experiences — and going home is just way too much travel for a week. That means that I rely on America’s Pastime on television to know that the wait to hug my mom and pet my dog is nearly over.
Even for my friends and peers who have never seen the seasons change and whose family is just a short drive away, baseball has something to offer. The sport itself has such a happy summer feel. At Pomona, I get to watch my friends on the team crank country music, chew on sunflower seeds and score seventy runs in a weekend series — the P-P baseball team’s offense is unreal with two Division III batters of the week already this season.
The sport, as technical and stressful as it is, exudes a chill vibe. Football is violent; basketball and lacrosse are played at a rampant pace; baseball games move as they see fit, allowing spectators to take in three-plus hours of glorious sunshine alongside the game they love.
All of us at the Claremont Colleges can all appreciate a light at the end of the tunnel during this peak midterm season. Those hours in Honnold-Mudd Library add up quickly, so knowing the academics will let up eventually is a breath of fresh air.
The next time you feel like telling your friend baseball is boring, or walking right by Alumni Field or the soon-to-be-built CMS Field, pause for a minute and appreciate all the sport represents. Phil is unreliable — he may very well tell you winter is going to last longer.
Take a minute to appreciate baseball, appreciate the distinct season changes most of the country experiences, and appreciate that, as hard as classes and life may be in February, we are just a few spring training and World Baseball Classic games away from being free.
Zachary LeBlanc PO ’28, a football player at Pomona College, is a self-proclaimed Masshole with a master’s degree in sports nerdism and Boston fandom.
Facebook Comments