Baseball Season Has Arrived

Baseball has been my favorite sport for about as long as I can remember. My mom was always a huge fan, and from little on, watching Milwaukee Brewers games at home on television, going to Brewers games at County Stadium or Miller Park, or playing softball at family functions were regular occurrences. I remember sitting in our apartment, eating pretzel rods, and swinging them around like baseball bats while my mom laughed and scolded me for getting crumbs on the carpet.

Once I got a bit older, I quickly chose my two favorite players - Jeff Cirillo and Mark Loretta. I became obsessed. I had their bios memorized, I knew their birthdays, and I even named my Ken dolls after them. I met Jeff when I was in the fourth grade at a car dealership about 20 minutes away from our house. I got his autograph and a quick picture taken with him, and I told my mom I never wanted to wash my shirt again, since he'd put his arm around my waist in the picture. Trade rumors started to circulate, and I swiftly sent a letter in the mail off to Wendy Selig-Prieb, telling her how upset I would be if they traded Jeff. To my surprise, she replied with a short letter telling me they valued Jeff's talents and .324 batting average. He was later traded to the Colorado Rockies. Although I was disappointed, I still had Mark Loretta to get me by.

Since Jeff was gone, I turned into a whole-hearted Mark Loretta fan. I was all over those Milwaukee Brewers message boards, and when one negative comment was mentioned, I jumped on it to defend him. Before I knew it, Mark's cousin, Maria, sent me a message thanking me for standing up for him and that she appreciated it. She mentioned he had a younger brother who looked just like him, only with red hair. I decided if I was too young for the already married Mark, at least one day, I could aspire to marry his brother. Because I was wondering if Maria was for real, I sent Mark a letter. Again, to my surprise, he responded with a short card thanking me for my defense of him on the message boards and confirming he did indeed have a cousin named Maria. I was tickled. I took that card and plopped it in a frame right away. When the opportunity presented itself, I made him a happy birthday sign and took it along to a Brewers game I attended on his birthday with my mom, aunt, and uncle. He waved and tipped his cap to me, and I was told by a fellow fan I had been on TV with my sign. Life was good.

Much to my dismay, one August night, as I perused the Internet, an article came to my attention: Mark Loretta had been traded to the Houston Astros. This one hurt. I burst into tears, ran downstairs, flung open the side door, and sobbed to my parents and grandparents that my beloved Mark Loretta had been traded. (They all actually thought someone had died, the way I carried on and on).

So, with Mark and Jeff having gone to other teams, the time came to choose a new favorite. The player I chose was later traded. Jeff did come back for a short stint with the Brewers, but since his second departure, I have been without an official favorite. Now that Mark and Jeff have each retired, I can't help feeling like something is missing when I watch Brewers games. It just isn't as exciting without someone in particular to root for. I hate to choose a pitcher because they don't play everyday, Ryan Braun and Prince Fielder are pretty much everyone's favorites - aside from them, the options of someone "good" are limited. This season, it has become my mission to find a new favorite player. I know that Mark and Jeff and all of my good memories can never be replaced, but watching games just isn't the same without a favorite.

My friend, Jeff Cirillo, and I

Last summer, a friend called and asked if I wanted to help her volunteer at the Jeff Cirillo Charity Golf Classic. Of course, I went along, and it brought back all of my old gleeful feelings again. I got my picture taken with the now-divorced Jeff, (now that I'm married, of course he becomes available! haha), and may or may not have have spent a majority of the day driving around in a golf cart in search of him, but it reminded me how much fun it was to have a favorite baseball player I couldn't wait to see. At least if I can't find someone in particular to root for, I can cherish all of my adolescent memories in the meantime.