Vinny’s Variety Pack: A break for baseball

This week, about ten mock drafts came out, so I’ll spare you from hearing my predictions for a little bit. Opening day for baseball was this week, and after reading my friend and fellow columnist Max's article, I was inspired to talk about baseball myself.

Ever since I was a little kid, baseball was my favorite sport. I may have stopped following it as closely as I did when I was young (football began to take up most of my time), but I still am a diligent fan of my Boston Red Sox.

Every member of my family, spare the occasional rebellious aunt or cousin, is a die-hard Sox fan, and they made sure I was one too. Since I was a toddler, I watched my team struggle every year and battle with the diabolical Yankees. For years, I begged my family to take me to a Red Sox game, just hoping for a chance to see the legendary Fenway Park. Before I knew it, my aunt and uncle surprised my sister and me with tickets, and I just about peed my pants.

I don’t remember too much about the actual game, but there is one thing I will never forget. After shoving our way between townies and tourists for about ten minutes, we finally made it to the entrance to our seats. Walking up the ramp, the first thing I saw was the old Coca-Cola bottles that used to be atop the Green Monster, and I could hear the hum of excitement among the fans. The stadium was bigger and more beautiful than I had ever imagined. I remember getting chills up and down my spine — it was literally the happiest I had ever been in my entire life to that point. It’s a happiness that still permeates me every time I walk into Fenway.

Being a Sox fan is a full-time commitment. Even when there’s snow falling in blankets onto our pothole-filled roads, you’ll be hard-pressed not to hear us talk about the Sox to anyone who will listen. It isn’t just a hobby, it’s a lifestyle. It’s in the beginning of April that this lifestyle truly starts to take off. The city awakens from its winter slumber to get excited for Opening Day.

It’s as if the world knew it was the first day of baseball in Boston and decided to give us a day off from the absolutely horrid weather we’ve been experiencing. The skies cleared, the wind slowed and the temperature warmed to a balmy 52 degrees. The atmosphere in the city was electrifying, and all the Sox faithful brought out their tried and true Pedroia and Papi jerseys that they’d been wearing for a decade.

Opening Day is especially meaningful to me. As I’ve grown up, baseball has lost some of the charm that it once held — I understand too much about the sport and am too busy to “feel the magic” that I felt as a kid. But on the first day of baseball, in the moments leading up to the first pitch at Fenway, I feel like the little boy seeing the Monster for the first time, getting those chills running down my spine.