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Nothing says spring like Opening Day and the return of baseball
My grandpa, John Wallace Thompson, was a big, strapping man who looked a bit like Ted Williams.
He didn’t hit like Williams, but he could swing the lumber better than most players in the North Carolina mountains, they say.
He and his brothers played ball in cow pastures and makeshift fields during the 1930s, getting up games here and there or playing for the local town team. Or, if you were good enough, you could catch on with a mill team, like Moonlight Graham.
John Wallace played on a few mill teams with his brother, Cal, who was scouted by the St. Louis Browns. Both millworkers, they would suit up after work or on Saturdays for a textile mill team in the Blue Ridge mountains.
My grandpa loved baseball. As a kid, I loved watching “This Week in Baseball” with him on Sunday afternoons. Years later, I helped him get cable TV, a marvel to mountain folk, so he could watch the Braves.
As he grew older, I had the pleasure of taking him to a few minor league games, up to Asheville to see the Tourists or down to Greenville to see the Braves’ Double-A team.
An Army veteran and survivor of the Great Depression, he struggled with depression for much of his life. In the winter months, he would get gloomy, sadly pondering life’s ups and downs.
But when spring arrived, he would spring back to life, warmed by the sun on the back porch and energized by the prospects of a freshly-plowed garden and the promise of a big summer harvest.
And then there was baseball. His grandson’s Little League games. The Braves on TV. The NBC Saturday Game of the Week. Maybe a minor league game with family and friends, or a game of catch after church on Sunday.
Baseball was like a rite of passage, a new season springing forth like fresh green grass, or colorful fruit trees blossoming in the sunshine, offering promises of better days ahead.
I’m starting to understand why my grandpa looked forward to spring so much.
Nothing brightens my mood or cheers me up like the return of baseball, which always seems to arrive at just the right time, showing up like an old friend. For eight months of the year, it’s right there when you need it. A game in the afternoon, playing in the background while you work. A game in the evening, the perfect way to end a long, summer day. A trip to the ballpark, or a game on the radio while riding down the road. It's there all summer, every day and on into fall.
Then you miss it when it’s gone. The months between the World Series and Spring Training seem like an endless cold winter. To die-hard baseball fans, football, basketball and other sports are just pastimes to fill the long, dull days.
Then the calendar turns, baseball returns, and life begins anew.
For me, baseball begins in February with college games on cold winter afternoons when the chill has barely lifted. Then Spring Training arrives, pitchers and catchers report, and our thoughts turn to Opening Day and a new season.
I’ve already watched dozens of college games this year, caught a few Grapefruit League games on MLBTV, and participated in two fantasy drafts.
And bought a few baseball cards, of course. The arrival of Topps Series 1 was yet another sign that spring and baseball are almost here.
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Opening Day arrived early this year, with the Dodgers and Padres playing in the Seoul Series in South Korea. On Thursday, March 28, all 30 teams will take the field for the beginning of the 2024 season.
It couldn’t get here fast enough. I’ll be watching from the first pitch. I’ll probably grill some dogs Thursday afternoon and settle in for a long, glorious day of baseball.
Spring and baseball are back. My grandpa, who lived to the ripe old age of 93, would be delighted.
— Jeff Owens is the editor of SCD. You can reach him at jowens@aimmedia.com.
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Jeff Owens is the editor of SCD.
