The Time In Between

Lena Ziskin

The night air is cool and crisp, it’s enough to warrant long sleeves, but just barely. The days are still warm; the humidity hides any breeze with its thick stillness. It’s in this stillness that you feel the excitement breeding. You hear it in the buzzing of the audience as the first batter steps up to the plate. They wait and watch, as the calm and ease of the summer rushes into the madness of the post-season. For a few weeks the boundaries blur, it’s still the regular season, but there’s nothing ordinary about it, and yet the playoffs are still a far away dream. It’s a time where every game counts; teams can still make or break their seasons. The future is up for grabs. It’s September, and if you take a deep breath you can smell the baseball.

The last day of August and the first day of September couldn’t be farther apart. Everything changes, the momentum that has been slowly building suddenly pushes the intensity over the edge. As the roster expands 25 boys with a stick and a ball, become 40 men with a dream. It’s in September that the long-time favorites for the pennant start to lose steam. A title that was once in the bag is now a knock-down, drag out fight. But, the most majestic of all September happenings is the Wild Card race. One team from each league is given a fresh breath of life. They are the comeback kids, with only the second best record they are given a shot at the big time. When the division title is decided, something new begins. There is a new hope, a new chance for two teams, and a renewed frenzy for the fans that have always loved them. But when October comes, its all over for 22 teams and for the other 8 things have only just begun. If baseball runs thick in your veins, September is a time of heart break followed by ecstasy, death followed by rebirth.

It seems like only yesterday that the days of summer lay before you. An endless expanse filled with lazy happiness, but now you have four weeks to prove your worth. The stadiums fill every night of the week as fans watch an entire season’s dreams be realized or crushed. The championship sits on the horizon, if you squint you can almost imagine yourself there. But, before summer becomes fall, you have to wait through September. For some it’s a bittersweet farewell but for others it’s the promise of another month; a chance to be called the best. To love baseball is to be a romantic, putting your heart on the line for something out of your control. But losing isn’t the end, you’ll learn to love again even if you’re disappointed. When you live and die with your team, it’s the time in between that will kill you.