Reflections on an Unexplainable Game

As pure and natural as kids on a sandlot

As the calendar moves to the latter stages of February, and the early days of March, the people's attention once again will turn to back to the Diamond. Yes, it’s that time of the year, where hope springs eternal, anything seems possible, and everything feels right with the world. Baseball is back.

For a game that very recently has been predicated on the technical through analysis of statistics, finding meaning in numbers, and identifying trends through various metrics, the reality is a simple one: sometimes there’s just no scientific explanation for the game we love.

Now don’t get me wrong, I, myself, am one of these individuals, searching for answers, predictions, and ways to advance the game. I love thorough knowledge. When you take a step back, though, like many other things in life, there may just be no scientific answer.

How do you quantify the crisp crack of the bat, as players practice in the warm sun, under the clear, blue sky? How do you analyze the camaraderie, the chatter brandied about by grown men? Can you really analyze what that new glove feels like when the ball meets it or that sweet “pop”?

What I'm trying to say is, there’s something magical about this game, something that deep down draws us all in. It’s that feeling of youthfulness, of seeing the green, fresh-cut grass, of listening to the sounds of the players, of seeing the white ball go from pitcher to bat to glove. It’s this thing that can’t be quantified, the human element of Baseball, and it's the thing that keeps us coming back, hungry for more, as a rite of passage every Spring.

While our society continues to speed up, and our game continues to become more methodologically-based, the unidentifiable variable will continue to exist. Players will be analyzed by the brightest minds who utilize the likes of all-encompassing statistics such as WAR, UZR, and PECOTA, but in the end, it's the game, a game for young men, that will remain. The human element, memories that our national pastime invoke, emotions that it conjures up, and feelings that it draws out of us, while un-quantifiable, is what will draw us all back again and again.

It's like an old friend calling up after a long, cold Winter, just to say, "Remember me?" You answer the phone, and pick up right where you both left off, nothing has changed. Welcome back, Baseball. We can't even begin to tell you how much we've missed you.