This SABR'd Isle Martin Hoerchner muses on the joys of spring and dreams of baseball. The crocuses push through the soft earth, followed by daffodils. The hopes of spring, of a new year, of a new season, blossom with rampant enthusiasm.
Life starts anew.
Hope is reborn. Baseball is again the perfect sport, because it begins during the height of spring, when Nature begins its symphony of color, of hope, of rebirth. And the flip side, of course, is that baseball finishes it season just as the leaves are turning brown, as hope is extinguished for all but one, and a long winter sets in, like the perfect setup man, waiting for the Easter resurrection. But I was taken by surprise by the early beginning this year. The first regular-season game played in March.