Back in Charlotte…

For now, I will not write much. I will happily organize the laundry and open the mail, my excuse to procrastinate learning the outcome of this weekend’s games. (The longer I am away from the Internet, the better.) I will hold onto my Cooperstown high…

It was after this point last year that things got really ugly. More specifically, we found our way irretrievably into a pit of despair after mid-August. The Os were waiting to see if Trembley could handle a loss before officially appointing him as manager. Handle a loss, he did. Perhaps this year, this weekend will mark the turning point when we recover, when we resurface, drawing in a long, deep breath after suffocating, lifeless and listless without air for too long in the depths of the division. Maybe we will no longer need to hold our collective breath through the Orioles pitching, exhaling when we bat, and starting the cycle all over again the next inning, until all breath escapes in frustrated sighs. Perhaps, this will be when we remind the entire baseball world that we command respect, that we cannot be so easily dismissed, that we are the Baltimore Orioles, and in our short history have produced six of the greatest players baseball has known. Yes, we have an admittedly smaller, but it is just as loyal, following, and we know that though one team may have more Hall of Famers, their history is longer. A history, do not forget, that started with us. These fans may swell with pride in their great sums of money and strategy for purchasing more than fostering and growing, but their superiority, if any is warranted, is our superiority, as they were once us, founded in our fair city.

But this isn’t about them. It’s about us and a new and energizing era in Baltimore, about our own history and future of greatness. Future. Greatness. The Orioles will again breed a caliber of player that belongs in the Hall. For some of us, the existing six are special and cannot be equaled. We will always revere them and the memories they gave us with an unmatched fondness. We will always regard them as unique. ‘No one like them.” Yet, our hearts are big and there is room for more and different love. We are eager and ready to make room for new talent, to start filing away stories of magnificence for future reminiscing. We don’t want to buy a World Series. That is unsatisfying and inglorious. We want family. We want to be awed as our young, new rookies mature, as they develop and astound us with their ability. We choose to suffer with them as they grow because that’s what families do; it is the price in order to rejoice. We want Orioles and the Oriole Way. Our success may not be overnight; maturation is a process. But when that success comes, we want it to be ours, with ORIOLES.

I realize how all this may sound, but this is what Cooperstown does to you. If you love baseball, you cannot help but leave the town feeling in love. A sparkle in your eyes, you cannot wait to come home and share with others who love what you love the enthusiasm that is infused in you after only a weekend. It overcomes you.

But there will be more of and about that later…for now, I have to get back to procrastinating with laundry, holding onto this hope and wonderful mood for as long as possible.

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