It was opening day at the Ballpark in Arlington. I was there before the crowd, watching the painter put the final touches on the on-field opening day logo. The sun was perfectly shining. Not too hot and not too cold. The broadcasting crew was preparing for the big day and the suits were beginning to assemble the pageantry that only happened once a season.
As I sat alone in my one seat in a sea of thousands, I had time to think about the great game of baseball and what it means to me and my country. Soon people would gather around me, enjoy the flyover put on by our great Air Force, and salute the flag of the United States. The anthem would be sung by all, young and old, and by all different walks of life. Together we would proudly sing and anticipate the first pitch that we knew was coming. The starting lineup was announced and all you could hear was so much clapping and cheering for each and every player.
The Rangers finally took the mound and the umpire shouted "play ball." The game was on and another perfect day was upon us. The score didn't really matter too much. What mattered was being there for the first game of the year. Perfection. The tradition of baseball.