Hopefully we will see you at the ballpark, but for those of you who can’t make it down to Comerica Park, the game will be broadcast live on Fox Sports Detroit and 97.1 the Ticket. You can also keep track of what is happening online at the Tiger’s website or on social media using hashtag #OpeningDayDET.
Like the late Ernie Harwell’s reading of “Voice of the Turtle “ before the first game of spring training, Greg Hall’s poem, “Baseball Is,” covers just about every reason, past and present, that makes baseball a game for our memories.
Here is an excerpt from Hall’s verse that really resonated with us…….
Baseball is grass, chalk and dirt
Displayed the same yet differently
In every park that has ever heard the words, “Play ball!”
Baseball is a passion that that bonds and divides all those who know it.
Baseball is a pair of hands stained with newsprint,
A set of eyes squinting to read a box score,
And a brow creased in an attempt to recreate a three-hour game from an inch-square block of type.
Baseball is the hat I wear to mow the lawn.
Baseball is a simple game of catch
Baseball links Kansan and Missourian,
American and Japanese,
But most of all – father and son.
Baseball is the scent of spring,
Baseball is a language of very simple words
That tells unbelievably magic tales.
Baseball is the way generations compare themselves and their idols.
Baseball is a voice in a box,
Describing men you’ve never met,
In a place you’ve never been,
Doing things you’ll never have the chance to do.
Baseball is the potential for a no-hitter with every national anthem.
Baseball is 90 feet of anticipation.
Baseball is knowing when to run,
When to stop,
And when to slide.
Baseball is a thinking man’s game that takes no brains to excel at.
Baseball is a scribbled and blotched scorecard,
That can make 6-4-3 look like a ballet.
Baseball is pepper, three-flies up, five-hundred and home run derby,
Played by kids in every schoolyard since before Babe Ruth.
Baseball is how I learned my geography.
Baseball is the four-inch-high trophy that I have never thrown away.
Baseball is taught by dads to sons,
In hopes that the boy will master the game that the man did not.
Baseball is a dream that you never really give up on.
Baseball is precious.
Baseball is timeless.
Baseball is forever.
Baseball Is © by Greg Hall
For the complete poem visit Greg Hall’s blog: http://www.greghallkc.com/index.php/baseball-is/