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Play Ball

By The CRIMSON Staff

Somehow, in spite of labor disputes and selfish players, Major League Baseball has always remained dear to America's heart. It is the National Pastime, and today the Boys of Summer emerge from the sunny spring training fields of Florida and Arizona. Opening Day marks the beginning of a passion for baseball enthusiasts around the world, but it means something unique for many different fans throughout America.

To legions of Little Leaguers, Opening Day is the first day for aspiring pitchers and hitters to watch their idols in action. After a dreary winter of enduring the XFL and the WWF, teenagers today have the opportunity to witness a real sport. After watching Pedro Martinez baffle entire teams, they'll head over to the local diamond to practice their curveballs and changeups. Millions of Babe Ruth and high-school games will be won with spectacular plays by momentary heroes.

To fantasy league players, Opening Day begins a new season of rank hypocrisy for general manager wannabes. Suddenly, it doesn't matter if the home-team loses--as long as your fantasy ace is on the mound against them.

To the fans who flock to the park each year, Opening Day is the start of a unique lifestyle. They will chant one person's name in unison with 33,000 total strangers and yell with delight when a Yankee strikes out. Young couples in cramped, ancient seats will buy overpriced hot dogs and warm beer. On a bright summer's day, overlooking an emerald baseball diamond, they will fall in love.

To statisticians and pundits, Opening Day is heaven on Earth. It is safe to say that baseball numbers are crunched more often, and in more ludicrous ways, than any other sports information. Someone, somewhere, knows Travis Fryman's slugging percentage against left-handed pitchers in day games.

To the older folks, Opening Day is another chance to criticize current players and remember the true greats of yesteryear. For some, the feats of Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire will never really compare with those of Ted Williams, Willie Mays and Sandy Koufax. In this era of monster hitters and astronomical contracts, they say, everything is distorted, and baseball will never be the same.

And to us die-hard Red Sox fans, Opening Day signals the start of another season of false hope, fleeting triumph and eventual, inevitable failure. It is a vengeful God indeed that has created a team with Pedro Martinez, Nomar Garciaparra and Manny Ramirez that will not win the World Series. But of course, we will still watch them. Indeed, we will root and pray for them. Because, after all, this could be the year.

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