Since the Colorado Rockies started playing ball in 1993, I have been lucky enough to attend the home opener on more than a handful occasions. I was at the first game at Mile High Stadium, and as I continued through my school years, my father would take me out for the day to catch the first home game of the year. Unfortunately, this year we didn’t get tickets to the game. However, my boss was nice enough to give me the day off anyway, so I decided to make my way downtown to wonder around the park, shoot some photos, people watch and imbibe on a cold one (or two) on what was a perfect spring day in Denver, Colorado.
Opening Day of baseball is a culmination of so much more than the yearly rebirth of America’s pastime. Its a glimmer of hope that winter has little survival left in it. With an electricity in the air, the day has become an unofficial national holiday. To some the day marks the return of their favorite sport and the first chance of the season to catch a game. For others, it is an excuse to take the day off and get extremely sauced before noon without the intent of watching a single pitch. The significance of the day for me lies in the memories it brings to mind of attending games past with my father and of my childhood. Going to sporting events is one of the cornerstones of my growing and upbringing, therefore, every spring and every Opening Day I am reminded of those memories and how thankful I am for my family and those experiences.