I believe in the Church of Baseball.

I believe in the glory of the game, the earnest truth of a base hit up the middle.

I believe in the greats who have come before, and those who grace our fields now.

I believe in the crack of the bat, the snap of the glove, the roar of the crowd and rustle of the grass. I believe in the smell of hotdogs on a summer night, and the sound of an AM radio nestled between the seats.

I believe in the stand up double, the diving triple and the slow jog of a home run.

Today we celebrate our seasonal observance of the return of Baseball to our hallowed city. We celebrate a return to the game that has passed our idle time since before our grandparents were born. We celebrate the game that has remained “while America has rolled by like a procession of steamrollers. It continually reminds us of what once was, like an indian head penny in a hanful of new coins.”

We celebrate our traditions, past and present.

We celebrate the power of a game to unite a people, to create passion, to create diverse ties that cross all lines of race, religion and socio-economic status.

I will be leaving work at 11:00am today to celebrate all that is right and good with the world, along with 46,000 of my closest friends.

Play ball.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs