‘Twas the night before Opening Day when all through the park, the stands echoed silence, the diamond laid dark.
The pennants and bunting hung stoically still, in the air, freshly crisp, with a perfect spring chill.
Kids’ baseballs are nestled all snug in their mitts, holding bats under pillows while dreaming of hits.
Working all night on the curve of each cap, excited to awaken from the long winter nap.
Soon the crowd will gather with a buzz and some chatter, offering praises, crude jeers, and “Hey batter, batter!”
Oh, how I’ve longed for the sharp crack of lumber...and watching fielders give chase, seeing only their number.
The sun’s rays are creeping down the right field line, enriching the green of the outfield’s pure shine.
Each line gently set with an artist’s deft touch, like a calm cleanup hitter coming through in the clutch.
The infield is soft with a flawless, smooth finish, ensuring the defenders’ fine skills won’t diminish.
Still hours from first pitch the boys take some grounders, a part of the game left over from rounders.
Giddy fans prep in their own unique way. They’re quenching their thirst and driving hunger away.
Still filling the lots with cars all around, a rhythm emerges with harmonic sound.
First pitch now approaching as fans make their way to the seats they’ve staked claim to for Opening Day.
The Championship season commences so soon. In the blink of an eye we’ll be wrapping up June.
Lineup exchanges, the shaking of hands, an aura of hope overtaking the stands.
Stars and stripes waving with the Anthem sung proud. Anticipation building - it’s about to get loud.
A toss down to second, a brush of the plate. “Play!” shouts the umpire; no longer we wait.
The pitcher stares in with cool, anxious eyes. Holding their breath, the spectators rise.
He winds, kicks and fires - hey, it’s strike one. My Christmas is here as the season’s begun.
Every day now a gift from here ‘til November, dreaming this is a year Milwaukee Brewers fans remember.