Everyone has a passion. For some, it is as simple as beer and cigarettes. Nothing more. For others, it can be traveling all over the world for years and years and never having a place to call home. Just enjoying the marvels that the world has to offer. My passion; baseball. I believe in baseball. Many people may think that it is ridiculous to have a belief in something so tangible rather than an idea to float around. But to me, baseball is more than just a sport. It extends beyond that. It is not as simple as blocking and tackling, or dribbling and shooting. There is so much more detail that baseball becomes and art.
My passion goes back to early childhood, much like every other little kid. It starts out as an obsession to play catch in the backyard with Dad and learning how to throw the perfect fastball, and formulates into the dream of becoming the professional that every kid looks up to. When the innocent idea of being famous and playing the game at the highest level far overshadows the million dollar contracts and signing bonuses. It became something I would never want to give up.
Growing up, I played on almost 10 different teams with nearly 40 different coaches. What is the point? It never changed. Even with all of the different philosophies of the game, baseball is a constant. As my life goes on, baseball gains much more meaning. When the world is flattened and rebuilt, erased and rewritten, baseball remains the same. It is our pastime and a reminder of what was once good. It is the blood, sweat, and tears of my everyday life. When stress and frustrations are wearing me thin, baseball becomes an escape. It has the power to completely clear my mind and it helps me let go. It is the never-ending nicknames like “kid,” “babe,” “meat,” and “crash.” Baseball is my life and is also the life of thousands of others, and because of that, baseball will never die.
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