There’s nothing more magical than the return of baseball to quench our thirst for 4-hour games, advanced statstics, and overly-nostalgic columns about America’s game.
Do You Sort Of Hate Baseball? Then You’ll Love This Column!
Every year around this time, I brace myself for the onslaught of baseball highlights that begin to pollute all my favorite sports shows. I suspect I’m not alone here, but even if I am, I’m good with it. I don’t care about VORP and UZR and WAR ratings, and until October, baseball bores the crap out of me. It just does.
But worse than baseball’s inexplicable ubiquity are the people that insist on pretending baseball is some glorious tradition, personifying the simple joys of American innocence. Or something like that. I mean, I get it. There’s nothing more American than hanging out at the ballpark with a hot dog and a beer on a summer afternoon, kicking back in the bleachers, just because you can. It’s cool. But this column pretty much sums up why I can’t stand baseball lovers:
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