By Michael Smerconish
Let me finish tonight with this.
I am sure I speak for many when I say I'm happy it's Friday and that a holiday weekend is here.
Because by this point in my week, I'm all emailed out. I've got iPhone overload, and I'll even be happy to take a breather from social media. Don't get me wrong, I love all of the technology that makes communication easier but it leaves nowhere to hide. When we are all connected 24/7, there is no room for a respite.
Last summer I was speaking to a business associate who heard waves crashing around me. He asked where I was and I replied, "On vacation." He said, "You're not on vacation, you're just working in a bathing suit," and he was right.
Well, help arrived yesterday in the form of Opening Day. Major League Baseball is back, and not a moment too soon. This is just what the doctor ordered. We can use the breather. All three hours of it.
The Star-Spangled Banner. A beer. A hot dog. Some meaningless statistics. A pause at the plate while a batter looks for a sign from the third base coach. Some guy grabbing his crotch. Another fellow spitting tobacco. The seventh-inning stretch. The foul ball that never seems to come my way. Maybe an argument at home plate. All the traditions, the rules, and the unwritten protocols. And a scratchy AM radio signal transmitting unmistakable, immortal voices like Vin Scully, Harry Caray, Jack Buck, Bob Uecker, and Harry Kalas.
They're all part of the Major League Baseball experience, and it's nice to know it's going to last six months. Sure there'll be texting between innings, but baseball's slow, deliberate tempo provides relaxing relief--a welcome change-up from the fast pace of life.
Happy Passover. Happy Easter. Play ball.