From Shutterstock.com
"There are only two seasons:
Winter and Baseball."
--Bill Veeck
Our minds start to drift to sun-splashed fields in Arizona and Florida where the sun shines warm on the shoulders of young men as they stretch winter-weary muscles and minds, living for what is many others, the dream. Gradually across the rest of the country, winter begins its final retreat. The days are getting longer, the air warmer. In parks, back yards, and in streets people once again fall in love with the intoxicating smell of horsehide and cow leather. You can begin to hear the crack of wood bats and the plink of aluminum. The grass is turning green under the feet of players racing across its surface. And as spring rescues hope from winter, the game of baseball brings joy to the soul.
It's hard to quantify or to articulate that feeling, the realization that baseball is not just a game, but a spiritual experience as well. The days are long and warm, and a game only ends when somebody wins. There are over a dozen games in history that have lasted over 20 innings and seven hours, and every season, there will be two teams who will lock up in such a marathon, neither side giving in. The opposite is true of football, played in the time of year when days are growing shorter. That game is controlled by a clock, and the tension of that passage of seconds is felt throughout the contest. Football does have overtime, but only one quarter. If things are not resolved by then, it goes into the books as a tie.
There are no ties in baseball. It is an eternal contest.