This is a bit of a departure from my typical posts on this site, but sometimes our inspiration stems from something other than the love of the game: the love of the people we share it with.
Our relationship started in the midst of winter. Football was winding down as the anticipation of America's Pastime grew. Our first vacation together was to the land of year-round baseball where dreamers, players and fans meet every March as the hope for the new season begins. We spent several days at games: scorekeeping, drinking beer, and soaking up the Arizona sunshine. My fascination with you deepened as the promise of many nights in the crisp San Francisco Bay air swirled around us.
It was those nights cheering for a Panda and hollering for a Mad Bum where I fell for you. Our love grew with the baseball field as our backdrop. I never imagined I could feel the way I do about the game about a person until I met you. Instead of my usual focus on the scorebook and stats, I found myself reveling in the feel of your hand in mine as the crack of the bat filled the silence between us. Our mutual passion for the game inspired playful bickering, deep conversations, and plenty a ballpark hot dog.
It was you who taught me that love is more than just the smell of fresh grass and the sound of a ball slapping a glove: it's sharing it with people you care about most.
And here we are nearly a year later, sitting by the window together and just waiting until Spring.