To the editor:
In a town where it is said basketball is a religion, it’s often difficult for those of us raised in another faith. In the world of my childhood, “ball” had only one meaning: baseball.
An article in the paper recently about how to overcome the winter blahs suggested traveling south or west to enjoy spring training. That is completely unnecessary! In Lawrence, we have the privilege of being able to watch the boys of summer at Kansas University starting this Friday.
Yeah, it may be a bit nippy on those aluminum bleachers. It’s worth it. I’ve told my kids and now my grandson year after year at the home opener sitting there with blankets over our coats, hats, gloves, and scarves, “No matter what the calendar or thermometer says, when you are here watching baseball you can smell summer coming.” Who doesn’t need that after the winter we have endured?
By the time the big leaguers get started, we’ve already enjoyed half a season of play. We still remember 1993 when hoops followers were thrust into mourning during Final Four play while we celebrated a home win against a highly ranked team the same weekend. Go ahead. Go sit in the nice warm fieldhouse. As for me and my grandson (baseball weather gods permitting), we’ll join a few other hearty souls across the parking lot at the ballpark and may even sing a chorus of John Fogerty’s “We’re born again. There’s new grass of the field.”