September, of course, is when baseball approaches my favorite part of the season — the end. I have no genuine qualms with the game or its fans; in fact, I can think of few more enjoyable ways to spend a sunny weekend afternoon than taking in a Greenville Drive game and enjoying moderately-overpriced refreshment between innings. But in September, baseball almost seems to get bored with itself. Most of the playoff spots have already been established, rosters have expanded. The season becomes stale. The hopes of fans have already withered.
Football, on the other hand, is the shiny new toy that we find under the tree that we can't wait to open and cherish. A game featuring our teams becomes an event, a celebration. Quite literally, it becomes a holiday. And while the congregated may not share a bloodline or a penchant for explosive devices as the case remains for other items on the calendar, these games do, in their own way, bring us together.
Sincerely, I am really looking forward to catching some playoff baseball, as I find those games as exciting as any played throughout the year, in any sport. But until October gets here, every one of my spare thoughts will be centered around the feasability of the end-around, the logic of the draw on 3rd and long, and devising new ways to make Peyton Manning look like an asshole.