Opening Day gets a lot of attention. It’s the sporting end of winter. It’s the start of a six-month marathon for thirty teams chasing two four eight ten chances at a four-week sprint to the finish. Football has lured away America’s raw passion, but even still, no other season starts with as much fanfare and optimism as baseball.
Which is why I always get an odd feeling as I begin to watch the actual game itself. All this build up, and then you realize you’re watching what will be just one instance among one hundred and sixty two. For as much meaning as Opening Day holds, the game doesn’t mean a whole lot. A win *feels* like the beginning of something great. I remember in 2011, watching Ramon Hernandez’s opposite field walk-off sear over the wall. It was one of the most exciting Reds moments I’ve witnessed. What followed was a season of disappointment. The only time in the past four years the Reds didn’t make the playoffs.
Just the same, a loss must be shrugged off. Johnny Cueto turned in a gem, and an injury-depleted bullpen did its job. But the Reds offense was everything we feared it might be. Billy Hamilton looked lost at the plate. Joey Votto seemed indecisive, and only saw 14 pitches in four plate appearances. All together the Reds mustered three hits. Yes, they were facing one of the best pitchers in the National League. But when it’s Opening Day, it’s all you got.
Brandon Phillips had the best day, offensively. Normally a free-swinging contact guy, BP saw 23 pitches in four plate appearances with two walks. He showed good patience and laid off some quality pitches from Wainwright. As was noted on Twitter, how great would it be if he decided to spite us all by showing just how patient he can be (probably a one-game anomaly, but one can hope).
The start of the baseball season is an odd paradox. Finally, baseball is back, yet we can’t truly make any judgments for at least several months. Even a poor April shouldn’t leave a fan too discouraged. So with that, we look to tomorrow, and enjoy the fact that baseball is back, and with every loss comes the promise of another opportunity. At least for now.