“People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.” ~Rogers Hornsby
We make no secret here of our love for baseball. We love baseball more than Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. More than cheesesteaks and pizza and soft pretzels. More than good beer. We love everything about baseball, from the monstrous number of games played, to the smell of ballparks, to the insanity of making old men wear players uniforms (and even still, let them wear suits!). We love the sounds of vendors and children, the cracking of bats. We love the way, in Philadelphia, the first games are too cold, the last games are too cold, and everything in between is too hot. We love section 420, with its high view of the entire field, and its distant view of the Philadelphia skyline. We adore the Phanatic. We enjoy the way anyone can and everyone will enjoy a home run. We enjoy more the subtle beauty of a well-pitched game.
We love baseball the way we love few things in this universe. We are as unwilling to give it up as we are unwilling to give up Tom Waits, Mrs. Thursday, and oxygen.
All this being said, baseball has returned. Yesterday, the first teams began to report for spring training, and today, the rest check in, included our beloved Phillies. There are professional ballplayers scattered across Florida and Arizona, shaking off rust and spare tires and getting prepared to another grueling season.
We intend to document this season often. Sometimes with stats and box scores, sometimes with firsthand accounts of games, sometimes with mere musings on the state of the season. Opening day is six weeks from now, and we couldn’t be more excited.