It's Opening Day but It's Not

The first pitch of 1993 -- Jim Abbott to Brian McRae

It's always on the calendar.

OPENING DAY.

Not description needed. Not Opening Day of a new Wal Mart or Opening Day of school or Opening Day of other sports.

No. They get their own description. Opening Day needs no qualifier.

It's Madonna. It's Cher.

It's The Babe. It's The Mick.

It's Opening Day.

Of baseball season.

Yes, I know it's a bit early this year. Er. Wait. It WAS a bit early this year.

And I was resigned to it not happening. Nothing we can do and we'll get things going...um...eventually.

But today -- THE day -- it hit home.

The sun is shining (in New York) and it would have been 60 degrees in Baltimore for Gerrit Cole's first pitch against the Orioles (or whomever you were looking forward to watching)

It would have been baseball.

The best openers have a touch of a chill and the sun shining. Yes, there are exceptions, like when Hideki Matsui electrified Yankee Stadium with a grand slam a day after a snow storm dumped on New York.


It's Bob Feller pitching a no-hitter. It's Tuffy Rhodes hitting three home runs. It's Derek Jeter homering in his first opener (holy cow!). It's Andy Pettitte in the snow. There are others, of course.

Like Raul Mondesi in 1999 (and listen to the sweet sounds of Vinny on the call).


It was April 9, 1981 and the Texas Rangers were in New York to face the Yankees. It was a day game. It should ALWAYS be a day game (yes, that's a rule of mine). I rushed home from Austin Road Elementary School to watch the game on channel 11.

By the time I was in high school, I was working the ear phone move, not caring what Mrs. Rundle in English class thought. Besides, she gave me a hard time for writing too much about baseball. Hmm. How's that worked out?

A scan of the lineup: Willie Randolph, Jerry Mumphrey, Dave Winfield (first game as a Yankee), Bob Watson, Lou Piniella, Rick Cerone, Graig Nettles, Dennis Werth, Bucky Dent.

Crap. No Bobby Murcer since a left-hander, former Met Jon Matlack, was pitching.

Another note of interest: my Facebook friend Billy Sample had a sacrifice fly for the Rangers.

But the Yankees built a 6-3 heading into the seventh.

The Yankees loaded the bases, and who did manager Gene Michael (in his first game) send to pinch hit? Bobby Ray Murcer, of course.

Watch him flick his wrists at the Stever Comer offering.

Boom (Phil Rizzuto and Frank Messer on WPIX).



I bounced out of the house, bat and ball in hand. Didn't care who wanted to play. It was time to go hit so Wiffle balls.

I would go to several openers. I saw the World Championship banner get raised after 18 long years in 1997. I saw a 17-13 slugfest in the Bronx between the Yankees and Athletics in '98.

You always knew you were likely getting a great pitching matchup, especially if it was the real first game of the season (as opposed to the home opener, depending on the year). So, in the 90s, that meant you might see Roger Clemens for the Red Sox while the Yankees might have Andy Pettitte or Jimmy Key.

Or Charles Hudson (in 1987).

In 1993 (the picture above), the Yankees came back to the Bronx for the home opener after a 3-3 road trip in Cleveland and Chicago (the White Sox -- not stupid interleague play). Newly-acquired Paul O'Neill had four hits to beat his current broadcast partner David Cone as the Bombers won 4-1.

In 1994, the opener at Yankee Stadium felt like it was on a rocket ship. With no pennants or playoffs since 1981 and no championships since 1978, the natives were a bit restless.

In the bottom of the first, facing Kevin Brown and the Rangers, Luis Polonia and Wade Boggs both singled. I remember thinking that if Don Mattingly did literally anything, we would launch into orbit.

He flied to left, but Danny Tartabull delivered a sacrifice fly. One-nothing after one.

Tartabull and Mike Stanley homered and the Yankees cruised to a 5-3 win, beginning what we thought was a magical summer after the Rangers won the Stanley Cup and Knicks came within a shot of a NBA title.

Then came the baseball strike and it was all over.

Each Opening Day is special. I love the introduction of the starting lineups along the base paths. A marching band might play (I remember Brien McMahon High School from Norwalk was frequently there). The bunting is hanging off the upper decks. The grass looks extra green, as if it's the first time you've seen green grass since last October.

The national anthem feels different because there is always a live singer and it just feels like it was time to play ball. The anticipation is reaching a crescendo with the "Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave" line.

Then comes the ceremonial first pitch. It could be Joe DiMaggio (or now it's guys like Mariano Rivera and Paul O'Neill). But, it could be someone different, like North Carolina head coach Dean Smith, days after winning a national championship in '93. Smith did the honors at the request of former NC State coach Jim Valvano, who considered doing so a bucket list item, but was too sick to do so. Valvano died a little over two weeks later.

There's a different energy in the air. Every team has a chance (yes, even the Mets, despite the "Family Guy" joke). The smells are just right. Hot dogs, burgers, those roasted nuts out underneath the elevated train tracks. Things are just...right.

The bars are buzzing. The souvenir shops are packed. Everyone seems happy.

You're back with 50,000 of your closest allies -- many of whom you don't know but might become lifelong friends with (Mick, Steve, Eddie...). It's a bonding experience (save for the fist fights, which I never got involved in).

Finally, after all of the pomp and circumstance (and the various and sundry), it's game on.

The first pitch? Ball? Strike? Fastball? Curve? Low and outside? Belt high?

We won't know for probably a few months.

That's the hardest part of today. We're still trying to convince ourselves this is an endless rain delay.

"Play ball" will sound out soon.

I need it.