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The Hope of Omaha
by: Barrett Baffert
When I arrived at the 2007 Spring Game, I was hoping the scene would resemble a combination of the spring scrimmage in Norman, Oklahoma - where over 21,000 Sooner fans were in attendance - and opening night of a Star Wars film - where instead of dressing like Jedi Knights or Storm Troopers, fans would do their best to resemble favorite former players. Unfortunately, none of the 9,500 who showed up shared my vision but, by all accounts, my Chuck Cecil outfit went over smashingly.
As for the game itself, well, what can I say? Are we left with any fewer doubts as we had four weeks ago? Not really. Instead we just have five and a half months to sit around and suppress those doubts while expectations rise. And rise. And rise...
Add to that the fact that not only have I allowed myself to consider the 2007-2008 basketball team "Final Four Caliber", I've also decided that the 2008-2009 squad will be the most talented in school history (with a best-case scenario starting line-up of Jennings, Bayless, Budinger/Horne, Hill, and Gordon).
And don't get me started on the 2026 squad...
Do I really have to deal with this until September? Really? Do you realize how dangerous it is for me to let these ridiculous expectations build up? Can't there be some sort of distraction to keep my mind busy?
Luckily, yes. Some merciful higher being has given the hope of Omaha.
Now, I realize I'm a little bit late joining the baseball bandwagon. Anyone who reads the Tucson papers knows how well this team is doing. Heck, rauraur.com's own Soren Hansen has done a great job of covering this team's success in his Obscure Sports Weekly pieces. But it wasn't until I actually started going to games that I realized how refreshingly therapeutic Arizona baseball could be.
Sure, Wildcat baseball comes with expectations but they aren't nearly as paralyzing as the "major" sports. For example, last game my buddies and I spent an entire half-inning arguing which sport not involving a football helmet Louis Holmes would be best at. I made the case for him playing power forward for Lute Olson. My buddy Matt wanted to see him come in for the ninth inning as the most intimidating closer in college baseball history. Another friend, Ryan, suggested javelin toss. We all nodded in agreement - envisioning Holmes' Herculean throw traveling just far enough to impale Sparky the Sun Devil - until Matt countered with, "How about we just make him the Athletic Director" and put the entire argument to bed.
Can you imagine a conversation like that going on during a basketball game? Would that be before or after you regurgitated your spleen into your mouth?
It' strange that it took me this long to develop a serious interest in Wildcat baseball. The program has three national titles to its name and plenty of alumni playing in the Majors. The undersized-but-entertaining student section (referred to as the Hot Corner either because of its location along the third base line or its high proportion of good looking girls) does a tremendous job of hilariously-heckling the opposition without offending any mothers in the audience. And most importantly, just as football has bowl games and basketball has its Final Four, every baseball season dangles the carrot of Omaha - potential week of watching sports, drinking in foreign bars, and chewing sunflower seeds until my cheeks resemble hamburger meat.
The question remains, however, how long until baseball becomes less innocent pastime and more entertainment-inhibited-by-expectation? Let's face it, the more success this team experiences (and the more I check prices on flights to Omaha), the more I'm going to expect from them. And then what? Scouting Little League games? Calculating the three-man pitching rotation for the next eight years?
You know what, I can live with that.
So look out Frank Sancet Stadium, you may have gained a new regular. Look for me at the next home stand behind the Hot Corner. I'll be the guy dressed like Trevor Hoffman.
Batter up and Bear Down
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