top of the first

At lunch with my husband today, I learned that the reason why James Loney plays first base and Casey Blake plays third base. They are considered power hitters, so you’d want them in a position where they wouldn’t have to move around a lot. You put someone like Rafael Furcal as shortstop because he’s fast, and that’s why your leadoff guys are usually shortstops or second basemen.

I haven’t been a fan of baseball for very long. I started following baseball last August. So I’m a rookie. But I’m learning.

I can’t go through the Dodger lineup and tell you where all the players came from, and what their batting average is. But I can tell you who’s playing in the lineup tonight. I can’t recall every single time the Dodgers went to the World Series. But I can recall the first time I stepped foot on Dodger Stadium—last October, in the third game of the NLDS where they swept the Cubs.

And I’m also doing pretty well managing my Fantasy team!

I remember when it happened, when I fell in love with baseball. My family was watching a game between the Dodgers and Giants. My husband and my brothers were following the game intently, because at this point LA and SF were in contention to win the division. I was always indifferent about baseball. No, I take that back. I hated baseball. I thought it was ridiculous that it didn’t have time limits, and that a game could last up to five hours. It was slow, tedious, and boring. I mean really, how hard is it to hit a ball with a stick?

(I quickly learned the answer to this question: Tim Lincecum. Also, Cole Hamels.)

I was trying to take a nap on the couch, but every time something happened, the boys in the living room would wake me up. Lethargic and lazy on a late August afternoon, I didn’t want to leave the comfort of the couch. Napping was out of the option, so I figured I’d see what the fuss was about.

“Who’s that guy with the funny dreads?”

“Manny Ramirez,” my youngest brother answered, rolling his eyes.

I remember just leaning a little more towards the television. With every pitch, with every out, I asked another question. My dad thought it was cute. My brothers thought it was annoying. Jared tried his best to answer while paying attention to the game.

What’s an ERA?
Why isn’t he swinging at that pitch?
When can you steal a base?
Wait, the catcher calls the game?
Is there like, instant replay? That was a BAD call!

Why I favored the Dodgers over the Giants when watching the game, I couldn’t tell you. People joke that the only reason why I’m a Dodger fan is because my husband is one. I disagree. I can’t pinpoint the exact reason why, on that day I found myself rooting for the guys in blue. But I can tell you that it had to do with how Russell Martin walked up to the mound when Clayton Kershaw couldn’t find his pitch. It was the lullaby sound of Vin Scully’s voice in the microphone.
It had something to do with Manny Ramirez’s calm in taking a 0-2 pitch like it was 0-0. It had something to do with how Matt Kemp, Andre Ethier and James Loney—all my age—were trying to figure out their swing.

The Dodgers made it to the National League Championship Series, only to be beaten by the Philadelphia Phillies. I remember my heartbreak. I remember how badly I wanted to see them dive over home plate in celebration, hugging and screaming and crying. But it wouldn’t happen.

I remember telling myself, this was all too much. To be so emotionally invested, to have your heart broken when your team doesn’t go all the way. Can I keep doing this to myself? Year, after year, after year? I wondered how Jared, who was a fan since he was 5, kept his hope alive and stuck with them through the years.

But that’s what love is, isn’t it? A risk, a leap of faith.

And so here I am, here we are, nine months later, and my love for the Dodgers has only grown. One could say I’m obsessed, one could say I’m a devoted fan. To be a fan of a baseball team, means you have to be a fan of baseball. And ultimately, that’s where we all are, right? Whether you’re a Giants fan, Mets, Rays, Phillies, Yankees, or Mariners fan, we can all remember that moment when we fell in love with baseball. Whether it’s 9 months, 20 years, or since you’ve been born, that’s all that matters.

And so that’s how it began, for me.

And so this is how it begins, for us.

Welcome to my blog. Welcome, to my world.