As I watch my little 6 year old brother get ready for another major league season, I realize how much I miss being a kid. .200 batting averages, long west coast losing streaks, and 5.00 ERA's hadn't polluted my brain yet, and there was nothing but pure joy as another season got under way.
I didn't care whether or not our bullpen would come through, or whether our starting pitcher's took on too much of a workload, or whether our infield defense would be set, and if that was, could the outfield defense step up as well? I didn't care about that stuff, because I was too young to know any better. All I cared about was watching my favorite team, and my favorite player's, play my favorite game, outcome be damned. If they lost by 10, or won by 10, I went to bed wearing my Reds pajamas, knowing that there'd always be tomorrow.
I wish heartbreaking losses and unfulfilled promises by past ownership hadn't clouded my thoughts, and I wish I could barely read so I wouldn't care so much about what pessimistic writer's thought about the team's chances.
I wish I still had every bit of that boyhood innocence that my little brother has. I wish I never once thought of Griffey getting hurt, or our top prospects not developing as we'd hope.
I think once we reach a certain age, we lose a part of that innocence. Whether consciously or not, we let the bad times we've experienced as fans override all of the beautiful things that come along with it, and I wish there was a way to keep that from happening, but I'm afraid there's not. We all care so much, that perhaps sometimes we care TOO much, to where it takes away from the beauty of the game.
So at least once this spring, just kick back, put all of the fears and negative thoughts in the back of your head, and cherish watching YOUR Cincinnati Reds, and the wonderful game of baseball in general.
Six year olds know no better than to do that... I wish the same could be said for myself.