It really gets into your system. All baseball players have this internal clock around February when it starts to kick in and the juices start to flow. I think underestimated how much I was going to miss it.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Opening day. All you have to do is say the words and you feel the shutters thrown wide, the room air out, the light pour in. In baseball, no other day is so pure with possibility. No scores yet, no losses, no blame or disappointment. No hangover, at least until the game's over.
In baseball, there's always the next day.
I really believe that what happens one day affects the next, and I think that came from that experience of learning that if I told the score inning by inning, play by play, it built up to its natural climax.
You never know when you're going to throw a no-hitter or if you're ever going to get the chance to do it. It's one of those deals where the ninth inning comes around; it's either going to be your night or just a complete game.
I think one of the most difficult things for anyone who's played baseball is to accept the fact that maybe the players today are playing just as well as ever.
You've got to play every game until it's over. Baseball is a funny game, so you never know what's going to happen.
There's nothing like Opening Day. There's nothing like the start of a new season. I started playing baseball when I was seven years old and quit playing when I was 40, so it's kind of in my blood.
Baseball's Opening Day is full of time-honored traditions: the President throws out the first ball, the Cubs' starting pitcher walks away with a 54.00 ERA, the Royals get mathematically eliminated from the pennant race.
Baseball changes through the years. It gets milder.
I don't go to bed every night worried about getting back into baseball.