Baseball season is here: The season of love, heartbreak, passion, sorrow, confidence, ignorance, thrills, abandonment, and hope. It's the season of life.
I can feel more emotions in 9 innings then I can an entire week in winter.
I've never understood how someone can't be passionate about baseball. It's in our blood, in our society. To watch as the curve leaves the pitcher and the bat resonates. The flirtatious way the way the runners advance. The way you sit on the edge of your seat. The characters you see and the commitment you feel. It's a whole lot like love. Every. Single. Game.
I am a White Sox Fan. In Chicago, I got asked "Why?" on probably a weekly basis. It's simple really. My dad was. My friends weren't. The arguments you can spark going against the grain are enticing. It's a different mentality on the Southside. We don't stand for losers. We won't go because we know that that will change. We believe in teams not in individuals. We believe in personalities and spunk. We give 150% in a game that most only give 110. We don't diss the other teams by throwing the ball back into the park. We keep it as a momentum to a game that brought you so much passion that you couldn't help but want to hold onto a part of that memory forever. (We diss them by throwing stats at them.) I am a Sox Fan because I know what baseball means. Looking passed the dollars, passed the ignorance, passed the failures. I am a fan of a sport and a fan of a team that resembles the top qualities of that sport.
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