<p>I live for postseason baseball,<br />
the electric roaring crowds,<br />
and the chance that the World Series could be all ours<br />
…again<br />
like when I was a little kid,<br />
wearing that ring that made my face shine in my darkest hour,<br />
in my ketchup stained Nomar Garciaparra jersey and faded B hat that I outgrew slowly,<br />
as I aged falling in love with the dust, those perfectly painted white lines, the yellow poles,<br />
and the flying stitched leather ball that soared through Fenway on my TV screen,<br />
as peanuts crunched, wooden bats clinked on cork, and umps screamed and spat,<br />
as I, from afar, shouted my dedication and vows,<br />
thinking my devotion was strong enough to reverse Bambino sized curses,<br />
to win…it all…again,<br />
to get to the heavenly champagne party,<br />
with another heavy ring to wondrously marvel at.<br />
my team,â¨showed up,â¨every Spring,<br />
hoping for October…<br />
bringing me to life again.</p>
<p>Written by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/ryancassata/">Ryan Cassata</a></p>
<p><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-5263" src="https://rockthepigeon.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/tumblr_mwdk0maxmo1qaamo4o1_500.jpg" alt="tumblr_mwdk0maxMO1qaamo4o1_500.jpg" width="500" height="342" /></p>
<p>Ryan Cassata &; Carl Beane in 2007</p>