This is one of my favorite times of the year. I love getting dressed up and trying to scare the pants off of my friends and family. I also have an affinity for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and candy corn.
However, I really like October because it means the Major League Baseball season is kicking into high gear in the run-up to the World Series.
Baseball is my favorite professional sport to watch. I root for my beloved St. Louis Cardinals every chance I get. For me, there is little as exciting as watching a do-or-die game in which the team’s future in the chase for the championship is on the line.
Baseball is America’s pastime for a reason. Sure, sports like football might have larger audiences nowadays, but baseball will always be the king in my book.
I grew up playing little league, and I loved every minute of it.
My only regret from high school is not playing baseball, but a series of shoulder surgeries made playing next to impossible.
Sure, some people claim the sport is boring because it is too slow-paced, but it is an incredible game of strategy. Pitching changes, pinch-runners and any other personnel change might slow things down a bit, but it is all part of a carefully orchestrated attempt by the managers to win the game.
In what other sport do you get to see such gamesmanship like that? Not many, that’s for sure.
Beyond the chess-like strategy of baseball, think of the history of the game. I’m an admittedly huge nerd, and I love how there are statistics for nearly everything in baseball, and those figures date back to nearly the first pitch ever thrown in a game.
For much the same reason I love golf so much, I also appreciate how individual the game of baseball can be.
Sure, there is a team of nine guys on field, but when it comes down to it, the game revolves around individual match-ups between the pitcher and the batter. With one swing of the bat, a solid hit can change the directory of the game.
The game is nerve-wracking to watch, and I can’t get enough of it.
So, when various ghouls and goblins come knocking on my door later this month, they will probably be able to hear me cheering in joy or screaming in agony as I watch post-season play. They might think it is part of my Halloween celebration, but they will be wrong.
It’s just me watching baseball.