The Opening Day of baseball was a hallowed occasion during my childhood. Emerging from a winter of withdrawals, the dawn of a new season carried with it much more than just the return of a game that I loved.
Opening Day meant the hope of renewal, a connection to past generations who taught us to respect the game and its time-honored traditions. We were cautiously optimistic that this would be the year our beloved team would finally challenge for the pennant.
For many years the first game of the season traditionally took place with a day game in Cincinnati and coupled with a parade in the Queen City to celebrate the occasion.