It would be wise, I suppose, to exercise caution. To remain skeptical and to not forget what's happened over the last 13 years. That would be the prudent choice. That would be rational and realistic.
But I don't want to be prudent. I want to believe.
I was thinking about that a lot as I walked to Camden Yards today for the Orioles home opener. I was running late and I thought momentarily about flagging down a cab, just to make sure I arrived appropriately ahead of the first pitch, but something talked me out of it.
The walk through downtown Baltimore, and through the Inner Harbor, has always been one of the prettiest walks in all of sports, especially on sunny days. There's just something about the way the light bounces off the buildings that makes me fall in love with Baltimore all over again every time I make that walk, even if I know I'll be watching bad baseball when I reach my destination. When people come to visit me from back home, and they want to watch a baseball game, I always feel a weird sense of pride on the walk to the stadium.
I grew up out west, in a valley where the sky is vast and large mountains loom on every horizon, so there is an intimacy, at least for me, about urban architecture. You feel close to other people when you walk the streets. And when everyone is moving in the direction of the stadium, when everyone is anticipating an afternoon at the ballpark, that energy is magnified.
I've always wanted to take that walk when the Orioles were good, ever since I moved here 10 years ago. There's just something exciting about a city when a baseball team grabs a hold of it. It's different than football. Baseball, when it's good, keeps reinventing itself. It's like reading a short story every day.
You can say whatever you want about how trivial sports truly are, and if you step back and look at the big picture, you'd be right. Baltimore, as a city, has a lot of problems. Improving the baseball team, which has been a perennial loser for more than a decade, would be pretty far down on your wish list if you could start fixing things. But at the same time, it's not trivial. A good baseball team is something that, day after day, drives conversations between strangers. Ever walk past someone in an airport or super market, see them wearing an Orioles hat, and exchange a nod that says more than words ever could? It makes you feel a little hopeful. It makes you want to brag about being from here.
You could pick up on some that vibe on the way to Camden Yards today. I've been to opening days in the past, when everyone wanted be optimistic, but deep down, you could tell they were sort of going through the motions. Opening day was about tradition, not anticipation, and the cynics and the realists were already steeling themselves against the inevitable.
But something felt a little different this year. The Orioles are undefeated, and it's impossible to dismiss that. It means something. What, I'm not sure yet. But it's definitely something. You could see people outside The Pratt Street Ale House (still the Wharf Rat in my mind) getting excited and trying not to spill their beers as they talked just a little too loudly about the O's young pitching staff. In front of Pickles Pub and Sliders, the crowd was a bee hive of orange and black. You could buy T-shirts from college kids that poked fun at the free-spending Yankees, while at the same time praising the O's veteran manager: "Who needs $200 million? All we need is one Buck." The majority of scalpers were looking for tickets, not selling them.
It's a little foolish to get sentimental about opening day. It's naive and cliched. It's like ordering a hackneyed sundae, and and covering it with hot melted schmaltz. There is a good chance this team will take its lumps, just like so many Orioles squads that came before it. Buck Showalter is not a wizard. He can perform no miracles.
But I'm not sure I care right now. We have a saying in sports journalism that we don't root for results, we root for a good story. After 13 years of disappointment, I'm convinced the best story would be for the Orioles to be good once again. To grab a hold of this city for the summer, and refuse to let go.
Maybe getting your hopes up only leads to greater disappointment. Maybe this will end badly. But maybe it won't. Maybe this is real. I know this: When Brian Roberts crushed that 3-run home run in the fifth inning today, I swear, Oriole Park was as loud as it's been in years. Ricky Porcello had to throw two pitches to Nick Markakis before the cheering finally subsided.
You could hear the roar -- that glorious roar -- bouncing off the stadium walls, maybe even off the downtown buildings in the distance. The sky was impossibly blue, and for a second, you wanted to believe it could stay that way forever.
Sun Photos: Gene Sweeney Jr.