March 21 is not the first day of spring, witches be damned. My first day of spring happens with the first official pitch of a regular season Major League Baseball season.
And so it begins.
What's not to love about this time of year? The weather is (theoretically) getting nicer, hockey and basketball are heading into the playoffs, Canada occasionally has an election, March Madness is making a mockery of Bracketology, and the baseball fans among us can begin to look forward to 162 baseball games, even if their teams don't make it into the playoffs.
I love baseball, and am lucky enough to have people in my life that love baseball or, at the very least, tolerate my love of it. People that will, say, go to Cooperstown for my birthday to see a hometown great inducted into the Hall of Fame.
Baseball is a magical balance of perfection
It's a sport where a stunning debut can catapult a player into a fan base's consciousness
or a player's new style is bigger news than his lack of production because, really, we know he's going to reach his potential.
And it's a sport where, no matter how many games you go to, sometimes it's the ones you miss that you remember the most.
So, as such, the only solution is to as many games as possible - including at least 2 of the 3 games on opening weekend - and revel in all that baseball has to offer all summer.