The afternoon was mellow in all the right ways, and things broke in our favor: the parking was free, the rain held off, the saxophone quartet absolutely nailed “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” and a kindly usher handed one of my boys a retrieved foul ball on our way out.
— “Overrunning It,” for Hobart
The first pitchers and catchers are reporting to camp today, in far distant Arizona. A year ago I marked the event:
[T]he flash of hope I get from that phrase — Pitchers and Catchers Report — feels like jumpstarting a car. It feels like peeling back a dark curtain. It sounds like fresh cut grass smells. If, as I suspect, the only way to confront death is to take pleasure in how we decorate the days beforehand, then I am taking extreme pleasure in those words, their sonority and cadence —Pitchers and Catchers — and the hope they represent. Summer, warmth, colour. I will share these things, and revel in them, and luxuriate in memories of them.
Read the rest here: thebarnstormer.com/reviving-summer/