Opening Day 2021

The snow fell lightly here this afternoon. As though it was  mocking me, an April fool, fixated on an event happening over 100 miles away.

It brought to mind Opening Day 1996, as I sat in the stands, the snow swirling while Pettite toiled. A quarter of a century past. It seems even further distant, the space between then and now overflowing with events that moved me, that changed me.

But one thing neither years nor distance could ever do was diminish my attachment to this sport and to my team. 

Baseball is in my soul. It bears an importance that I find almost impossible to fathom as I approach the beginning of my 70th year. It should long since have shrivelled, blown away by the winds of time. But it has remained steadfast companion, a part of me as real as my arms or my legs.

In the bottom of the second, the 2020 sufferings of Gary Sanchez momentarily disappeared into the left field bleachers. I did not witness this feat, as I was then in my car. But my mind followed the ball's flight and I danced next to the Yankee catcher as he circled the bases.

This past year has been unlike any other, our collective pain almost incomprehensible, our separation from the people and places that give life its meaning, bringing us all to our knees. 

My team lost today and I am living too far away to head to the Bronx on a whim. There is a sadness in each of those thoughts.

But my heart is overjoyed knowing the game I so love is ready for my full embrace. My spirit elevated by its mere presence.

It is Opening Day 2021.

And, especially this year, its so much more than that.