take me out
by Claire Zulkey

As I write, baseball season is only days away, and I'm so excited. Why? Because my life is empty without it.

Oh, sure, I've got a boyfriend, family, friends, hobbies, work, but what does that all add up to when you don't have a sport to follow? Pretty much nothing.

What about other sports? At the risk of being branded a bad fan, I have a hard time paying attention to games other than baseball if my team isn't doing well, and, as a Chicagoan, it's been a pretty crummy year. The Bears stank it up, the Bulls were typically miserable and the Black Hawks were mediocre (or, at least, I think they were; this matter is complicated by my near total lack of knowledge of hockey.) Same thing with college sports. My alma mater, Georgetown University, developed a specialized talent this season for blowing games in overtime. So basically, I haven't paid any attention to sports since the second or third game in regulation football season.

But thank god for baseball, where for me, spring always brings promise. I'm a Chicago White Sox fan, you see, and recently the Sox have perpetually begun seasons with a tantalizing promise of greatness. Of course, it hasn't added up to much and it brings much frustration, but with spring comes rebirth and hopefully that will come for my beloved Pale Hose.

Following baseball is the ultimate great distraction. Games are played nearly every day, so you don't have that annoying down time that you experience during football season. Plus, not only is your team playing but so are all the others, so that even if the Sox have the day off, I can still follow their rivals to see if they influence the Sox's standings.

photo by Michele McCarthy

Tuning into baseball is like following the news, only not (quite) as depressing; it can be boring or fascinating, painful or joyous. I enjoy listening to games on the radio, because it feels more old-fashioned and it's more exciting to hear the announcers interrupt their hokey jokes and corny asides with frantic descriptions of close plays and home runs.

And, in the end, you feel for your team. If you lose, you're depressed or frustrated or angry, and if you win, you experience a misplaced sense of accomplishment as if you were playing the game along with them. Even though you know it's foolish and it's only a game, you feel it anyway.

This is the escape. This is what I'm waiting for. Hope springs eternal, not just in baseball but in life, and that's why I'm excited for this spring.