Athleticism is not really my thing. I can't run fast. I can't catch. And throwing isn't really my strong point either. In high school I was a swimmer—a good one, thank you very much—because swimming is the only sport that doesn't require any one of the three previously mentioned talents. And I was a cheerleader. But that had more to do with wanting access to both the football and basketball teams on a daily basis.
Nor am I really into watching most sports. Don't get me wrong, my favorite thing about my four years in Madison is Badger football games on Saturday mornings; I just don't enjoy staring at a TV for ten hours every Sunday watching ten to twenty men chase an inflated ball (regardless of the shape) around, knocking each other down in the process.
With the March Madness madness in full-swing, it's hard to turn on a TV and not hear something about one basketball team or another. And since my bracket is already trashed (thanks a lot, Kansas), I find myself growing increasingly sick of it. Combined with Frozen Four anticipation and non-stop babble about the upcoming World Cup in South Africa, I feel myself going into an uninteresting-sports overload.
Yet, just in the nick of time, my saving grace arrives. The day when the gods smile upon Earth, the clouds part and the first pitch is thrown. MLB Opening Day. I've been having wet dreams about April 4th since the deciding game of last year's disappointing World Series. (Note: My hatred for the Yankees is only surpassed by my sentiments toward both the Twins and Cubs.)
Baseball fans are the most devoted of all sports fans. And that's not a personal opinion; it's a fact. The Major League Baseball season begins the first week in April and continues through October. For those of you who can't manage the math, that equals seven months of beer, sweat, tears and devotion. That's 162 games per team, spanning 214 days—nearly two-thirds of the year.
No other fans have so many stats to track, games to watch or players to follow. Each non-playoff NBA team only plays 82 games during its season and the NFL season only has 16 regular-season games. That's amateur hour.
I'll make concessions when I have to, and I'll admit that NFL fans brave some awful weather. But suffering through the snow is just as uncomfortable as sitting in sweltering 100-degree weather while your thighs suction themselves to hot bleacher seats. I've left ass prints on baseball stadium seats across the Midwest and lost a large amount of leg flesh in the process.
No other sport offers exciting mid-game entertainment as wonderful as a Sausage Race, fireworks displays or a cheerleading squad that performs on top of the opposing team's dugout, in the case of the Florida Marlins.
Other added bonuses to the baseball season: getting tan while enjoying the game, trash talking and basking in the glory that is a nice ass in a pair of tight baseball pants. As a girl who is constantly on the prowl for the best looking ass, nearly all of my candidates are men at bat.
As the weather continues to look more and more spring-like, I can feel my anticipation growing. Ten more days 'til the first pitch of the best seven months of the year... Bring on the baseball and butts.
Want to invite Jillian to sit in your box seats at Miller Park? E-mail her at jlevy2@wisc.edu.
