The crack of the bat, the shout of an umpire, the smells of fresh cut grass, stale beer and peanuts. A clear blue sky over a beautiful and perfectly manicured green field. The smells and sights and sounds of the ball park are upon us. Opening Day (and by this I mean the real opening day, not this opening night game that MLB is trying to pass off as the “new” tradition), marks the start of the best seven months of the year. After the long winter, America’s game is back, in full force.

In preparation for Baseball’s triumphant return, I’ve loaded up on my typical slew of baseball movies. I always return to Field of Dreams. If you build it, they will come. Indeed, time and again, ball parks are filled to the brim to watch a season’s worth of baseball games. Opening Day remains the biggest draw. The starting gun. I’m reminded of the scene in Field of Dreams when in historic Fenway Park, Ray Kinsella (Kevin Costner) asks Terrance Mann (James Earl Jones) what he wants:

Ray Kinsella: So, what do you want? Terence Mann: I want them to stop looking to me for answers, begging me to speak again, write again, be a leader. I want them to start thinking for themselves. I want my privacy. Ray Kinsella: I mean, what do you want? [Gestures toward concession stand.] Terence Mann: Oh. Dog and a beer.

This is the effect of baseball. A troubled man can put aside all of his frustrations with the world around him and escape into a perfect game. “A Dog and a Beer.” Sitting in the bleachers on a sunny day, rooting for your team with a dog and a beer, the troubles of the world disappear. Thousands of people, rooting for a common cause, putting aside all differences for a few short hours to watch a game.

Kirby Puckett once said that baseball was the most difficult of all professional sports. A finely tuned athlete stands 66 feet 6 inches away, throwing a ball as hard as he can at you, and you have to hit it with a stick about the same diameter as the ball. Doesn’t sound easy. The beauty of this difficult game is that nobody ever picked up a baseball bat without imagining themselves hitting a walk-off homerun. Baseball captures the imagination. It keeps us young. It gives us hope.

I have long loved baseball. It is more than a game, it is an institution. It’s a brilliant chess game with multi-million dollar pieces. When to bunt, steal, hit and run or pinch hit requires a strategy. Pitcher match ups and batting order require forethought. But in the end, it all comes down to luck. The right pitch at the right time and the entire chess game changes in a heart beat. In a crack of the bat. All of this is logical and strategic, couched as a game, with luck and hope built in. Opening Day marks the start of this grand chess game.

I thought long and hard about how to put into words my love for a game that captures the imagination of America year in and year out. I was at a loss for words. I still am. But every year, as Opening Day approaches, my dad (a die hard Cubs fan) returns to his state of eternal optimism. “This year is the year,” he’ll tell me with a smile. And he’s right, in a sense. The Cubbies may not win the world series, or even make the playoffs, but this year is always “the year.” It’s the year that any team can win it all. This year is the year that we are filled with a child like wonder as we watch our heroes, young men playing America’s game, take the field and take our hopes and dreams for a ride. It’s time to come out to the ball park again, for the boys of summer are back.