By Andy Nopper
Baseball to me means, well, everything. I’ve been a fan of this crazy game for 15 years now, since I was five years old. Very early on I understood why I loved it. My family wasn’t well off by any means. We didn’t do bad but there were very few constants in my life.
One constant was baseball. I grew up watching tapes recorded of the heroes of baseball. The true greats. Kirk Gibson’s World Series walk off home run on one leg. Carlton Fisk willing the ball to stay fair at Fenway. Joe Carter jumping like a madman around the bases. These were all before my time but they made me appreciate the game.
At its core baseball is potentially the game that is most affected by confidence, cockiness, will and heart. At the end of the day the premise of the game demands that. There is no play you can run to kill the clock, no way to keep the ball away from the opponent. No, they have their chance, every single pitch they have their chance until there is a winner and a loser.
That leads to the moments I remember growing up. The moments that will last likely longer than I will. They say sports don’t build character, they reveal it. And nowhere is that more true than in baseball. The baseball gods don’t care if you’re a rookie or a vet, in a slump or on a hot streak. They’re going to test you, and they will break you down. They will target you if they sense fear or weakness and the best will push back, stand up, and find a way to get it done in the tough moments.
These tough moments are why I love the game so much. The edge of your seat 9th innings, the towering home runs, the blazing fastballs. There’s nothing more majestic than a baseball game, and at the end of the day, that means everything.