I was a red sock when i was 11. This time of year certainly brings the magic back! There’s something about baseball that cannot be matched by any other sport. But that’s coming from the kid who dug his cleats into the dirt in slow motion, glanced at the chalk outlines, spit across home plate, watched as the pitcher slowly wound up, followed the ball as it flew toward the bat, felt my heart jump up into my brain when I saw the ball fly toward center field, felt it jump all the way out of my body as it disappeared over the outfield wall, barely felt the touch of the bases on my toes as I flew past and rounded third for home with a grin that said I don’t care about anything else in the world right now. The entire time around the bases I was overloaded with awesome.. the smell of the freshly cut grass, popcorn, the scream of the fans, the look of surprise on my coaches face, the scuffed up dirt and the grass stained jersey I wore, the scoreboard kid hiding behind the scoreboard at center field….. Gahd, I wish I could describe it to you.