Miguel Cabrera: The Patron Saint of Awesomeness
Perhaps the best secret that this blogger has kept from his loyal readers is how much he loves baseball. Don't get me wrong. Anybody who interacts with me in the realm of reality during late spring, summer, and early autumn knows that I'm a baseball fanatic, but in what is supposed to be my online testimonial, I've given little attention to my love of America's Pastime a.k.a. The Greatest Game on Earth a.k.a. God's Gift to Earth a.k.a. the Jesus sport (I pray that God forgives the egregious blasphemy of this. Though I do believe that were baseball invented during Jesus' time not only would he have been an avid fan, but a heck of a shortstop in his own right. Again, God forgive me.)
At it's heart baseball is a romantically simple game and the reasons why I love of it are romantically simple as well. In fact the reasons why I love it are awfully similar to the reasons why one may love another human being, or pet, or ubiquitous gadget of the moment (i'm looking at you, iPhone addicts). In fact, I'd go as far as to theorize that theres a reason why single guys flock to the game in the summer months and their relationship with it flourishes during a time that any red-blooded human being yearns for steady companionship. There's just something about the warm weather and long days that inspires this feeling. Or maybe it's just the need for a person to rage about bad summer movies to (I'm looking at you, Knight & Day).
What's in my love of baseball? Let me break it down for y'all.
Baseball is a committed and dedicated game. It shows up everyday without fail deterred only occasionally by the rain. Come home from work and there it is to greet you with wide arms, bringing you your slippers, and a cold beer to sip while you sit in a meaningful three hour conversation with it in which you muse about the ironies and complexities of life.
Baseball isn't a jealous game. It won't tear you a new on if you miss a game. In fact it gives you 162 of them every year thus encouraging you to have a life outside of it.
Baseball accepts you for who you are on the inside. Ugly or good-looking. Young or old. Intelligent or not so much. Rich or poor. Short or tall. Tea-toter or raging alcoholic. Baseball only sees what's inside and if you love it, by god it will love you back. There's no such thing as unrequited love or rejection with baseball (that is unless you were a Detroit Tigers fan in 2003).
Baseball actually likes hanging out with your friends. Not a selfish game, baseball invites even your most obnoxious friends to hang out with it on a nightly basis. And, really digs drinking with you too.
Baseball understands that you'll sometimes forget. A lot goes on during the course of the season. Information piles upon information and sometimes it's hard to keep track of everything. Baseball doesn't get upset if you forget a detail or two. It will kindly remind you that Miguel Cabrera is leading the league in batting average or that Hank Aaron hit 755 home runs in his career or that tomorrow's game is a day game, or that the Chicago White Sox won 20 of their last 25 games or that the Minnesota Twins are satan incarnate. It won't stop talking to you, argue with you, or call you inconsiderate. It empathizes.
Baseball in in tune with your emotions. Your team is in a slump. You need space. Your team is kicking ass. It gets crazy excited and pumped up with you. There's no need to explain yourself to baseball. It gets you.
Baseball is a patient game. It doesn't allow itself to be rushed along by time or a clock, but develops, progresses and grows gradually ending only on mutual terms when each team has had their say in matters and done all that they could to make it work.
Baseball is perfect. The most beautiful game in the world and it's all yours.
Now to do you get why I adore baseball so much?
Or, maybe you just think that I REALLY need a girlfriend.
Ryan the Sound Guy
