The passing of time is dramatically clear as early season games are played in the hot sun. Surprisingly, what stood out to me is the drastic change in the weather from the opening game to today. Baseball may span six months (and more if you’re lucky), but the recent distribution of college football awards brought about the highlight reels of the winners’ 2011 accomplishments. Today, October 2, a Sunday of rain and broken branches and leaf-clogged drains and slick streets, it stopped, and summer was gone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. Bartlett Giamatti penned these words in Take Time for Paradise. And why shouldn’t they when the late commissioner of Major League Baseball and philosopher, A. These days baseball practically goes until November. I’m not sure if hockey even has an “off season.” Perhaps the gift of the NBA lockout in some strange way is an increased appreciation for regular season games? Fans will see 16 fewer games before the pros *really* start playing. Many a professional sport spans one season too many-and by season I mean a division of the year, marked by changes in weather, ecology, and hours of daylight.
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