The Baseball Gods

The baseball gods are benificent – fickle, but ultimately benificent.

Malcolm sent me Tim Bray’s ode to opening day, and we did our best here in Albuquerque this afternoon to launch a season. It was just an exhibition game, but we got to watch the local nine, our AAA Isotopes, trounce the World Champion Florida Marlins.

It was not exactly ideal baseball weather, but The Big Storm that’s been pounding us all weekend saw fit to let up long enough to get in some baseball. It was cold and windy, and I was very glad Lissa was smart enough to bring a blanket.

It was sold out, but a pair of tickets materialized before my baseball-starved eyes Friday afternoon, then additional magic about 45 minutes before game time delivered an upgrade to box seats up in the club section behind home plate.

Our sharp young shortstop, Wilson Valdez, stole two bases in the first inning, then another two in the second. When he came to bat in the third, the first pitch from the Marlins’ Darrin Oliver seemed to sorta slip, tailing in the direction of right directly at Valdez, who danced out of the way. The young home plate umpire wandered mound-ward to have a chat with Oliver about the issues associated with having pitches slip in situations like that, while Valdez just stood there with a huge grin on his face, like he was thinking, “Shit, I just got thrown at by a big-leaguer!”

Bray captures nicely what this is all about, with green lawn and clean new uniforms and the great promise of T-ball in spring:

Tomorrow?s the first game; in entry-level tee-ball, there are no umpires and score is not kept. But, The Game Is The Thing.

Play ball.