Note: This is the ninth essay in the series of “Why We Love Autumn.” I recently asked some friends who love autumn as much as I do to reflect on what made them so excited for autumn to arrive. The answers will be varied and have a different voice each post. Jay writes about a very important part of autumn: baseball. Little did he know…I know exactly where I was when Sid Bream chugged around the bases that fall evening. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you better watch the video.
There’s a certain irony about a sport so closely identified with warm summer days having its most pivotal moments in the crisp autumn air. But for me, anyway, it fits just fine. In the autumn, we say goodbye to the energy of summer and say hello to the dormancy of winter.
Baseball’s playoffs are like those last warm days where you can still soak up the sun’s warmth just as the cool breeze blows in. Oh, it languishes in the the hot and dreary summer. Even the biggest baseball fan will admit that. But in the same way that first hint of a cool breeze says the wait for fall was worth it, the playoffs remind us that the long slog of 162 games was worth it to get us here. As the days become more crisp, the game does, too.
that stood alone in the middle of June now seems to tie together into something bigger, something more meaningful. You see it in the season, too, of course, when the radiance of the leaves becomes just so, and the fireplace smoke tinges the air. And you’re reminded to appreciate it, because the dead of winter is surely lacking.
But for me, the best joy of all is seeing grown men act like children, if only for a moment. In those fleeting instances where piles of humanity scream with delight and excitement as the fans look on, I can savor this season of inbetween, and be happy.