This is why I love baseball.
I love baseball because it signifies the end of a long cold winter in the North, and the start of the springtime.
I love baseball because of its rebirth; a new beginning where hope is abundant and all sins from the last year are forgiven.
I love baseball because of its sounds—the crack of the bat, the thump of the ball in the catcher's mitt, the roar of the crowd.
I love baseball because of its smells—the grill at the concessions; the freshly cut grass.
I love baseball because of its tastes—the way a hot dog tastes better at the ballpark than anywhere else in the world; cold beer on a warm day.
I love baseball because of its pace—the slow, folksy pace of the game allows the mind to wander; and then suddenly—bang!—it gets exciting and intense.
I love baseball because of the majesty of the home run.
I love baseball because chicks dig the long ball.
I love baseball for its grace—the athletic ability of an infielder diving to the hole and then getting up and making a perfect throw to first; the sliding catch in the outfield grass; the depth-defying leap at the wall to take away a certain home run.
I love baseball for the exhilaration of winning and yes, even the sting of a tough loss.
I love baseball because it's a marathon and not a sprint—lose today and you can always come back tomorrow.
I love baseball because occasionally—no matter how long you've been watching—you will see something you've never seen before.
I love baseball for the special connection between father and son.
I love baseball for its traditions—ivy on the wall; the October Classic.
I love baseball for its quirkiness - Mel Ott's high leg kick; Fernando Valenzuela looking to the sky during his windup; Mark "The Bird" Fidrych talking to the baseball.
I love baseballfor its nicknames—The Human Rain Delay; The Sultan of Swat; Big Papi; The Splendid Splinter; Big Unit; et al.
But most of all, I love baseball because it's such a great game.
That is why I love baseball, come to think of it.