Everyone has been posed the question, “What is your favorite holiday?” Since I was a munchkin, my answer has always been, “MLB opening day.”
The inquirer almost always scoffs at this answer and offers the standard refusal that opening day isn’t a holiday. After all, class is in session, markets are open, and mail is delivered. To me, however, a holiday is any day where we honor something important and impactful in our lives, and, for so many, opening day is about much more than baseball.
Opening day is the commencement of summer, which is appreciated by even those without the slightest interest in hard ball. A time of relaxation and reprieve, summer makes common the joyful faces that are scarce in the bleakness of January.
There is something about climbing onto the roof on a clear June night, looking up into the heavens, and hearing the clear yet distinctive voice of play-by-play announcers like Pat Hughes detail the every movement of the game being played hundreds of miles away that puts the mind at ease. It is a scene that seems so trivial, but those moments provide an opportunity to escape the fast-paced life we live. Opening day is a promise that this type of escape is near, and that no matter what is happening in your life, soon you’ll be able to escape, even if just for a couple of hours, and allow yourself to be enveloped by the most beautiful sport in the world.
In a world in which people seem to have an allergy to hope, opening day causes a surge of the opposite. Yankee great Joe Dimaggio explained this feeling when asked about the nation’s excitement for opening day.
“It’s like a birthday party when you’re a kid,” he said. “You think something wonderful is going to happen.”
Indeed, opening day makes us all feel like children again. No matter the different stressors in our lives, opening day gives everyone a chance to see their team tied for first with their best pitcher on the bump. They see the rugged faces of their favorite veteran players mingling with the baby-faced kids getting ready to make their debuts. At that moment everybody has a clean slate. It doesn’t matter if you’re the reigning MVP or if you failed to hit above the Mendoza line the year before, the only thing that defines you is what you do in the next 162 games.
So, no, we don’t get the day off, and maybe it doesn’t appear in tiny letters on a standard calendar, but opening day is a holiday. It brings the promise of summer and reprieve, and it gives us hope in a world that often seems bleak.
While some look forward to the excitement of Christmas morning, I will continue to focus my attention on early April, when we all sit in anticipation for the most beautiful pairing of words in any language: “Play ball!”
