The world may be bleak, but there is always the beginning of baseball season to evoke an air of optimism. There is something refreshing, much like the budding of tree leaves, that brings back hope with the first pitch hitting the catcher’s glove with a thud.

I grew up in New York City, a city where there were three baseball teams. The city buzzed with anticipation as opening day approached. This sport will not solve the world’s problems but it sure is nice to hear the umpire say, “play ball.” It’s an enduring feeling that awakens one’s inner child.

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