Skip to main content

Opening Day Magic 2026 . . .

It’s back. Baseball—yes, baseball! If you’re someone who finds themselves inexplicably drawn to this peculiar ritual, let’s be honest with each other: it’s a bit odd, right? I mean, 162 games. That’s a lot of hot dogs, a lot of standing around, and a lot of grown men in oddly tailored trousers spitting with remarkable precision.

And yet, here we are, poised on the precipice of another season. Thursday, March 26, 2026, to be precise—Opening Day.

It’s a curious thing, this Opening Day. You walk into a stadium, or turn on the TV, and suddenly, everyone is infected with a highly contagious strain of . . . Optimism. It’s a spectacular form of collective amnesia. All of last year’s fumbles, the endless losing streaks, the existential dread of watching your bullpen implode in the eighth inning—poof. Gone. It’s entirely replaced by a wide-eyed, childlike belief that this year, finally, the baseball gods will smile upon us.

The Cycle of Hope and Despair

As a Cubs fan, I know this cycle intimately; it’s practically my resting heart rate. Of course, we’ve seen the mountaintop. Back in 2016, we experienced a moment so improbable it still feels like a beautiful, tension-induced fever dream. But let’s be real—that was a decade ago. Mostly, being a Cubs fan is a long, winding road paved with what we politely call “character-building” experiences.

Still, on Thursday morning, we start with the exact same record as the reigning World Series champions. Zero and zero. Isn’t that something? A grand, democratic reset before the inevitable reality check.

A Pre-Season “Pilgrimage”

Just this week, I embarked on my annual pre-season pilgrimage. Only, instead of braving the sprawling concrete and questionable parking logistics of Angel Stadium (The Big A) in Anaheim, my journey consisted of a rigorous trek to the living room. I fired up MLB.TV to catch an exhibition game between the Dodgers and the Angels from the safety of my La-Z-Boy.

And astonishingly, it was absolutely delightful. The air might not have been thick with the aroma of overpriced stadium garlic fries, but the almost primal crack of a bat meeting a ball still sounded perfect through the TV speakers. I was actually enjoying myself, completely stress-free, with no traffic jams on the 5 freeway. Even though, let’s be clear, it was a practice game—a comfortably televised rehearsal for the actual agony to come.

Opening Day, you see, is more than just a game. It’s a pilgrimage. A return to the sacred grounds where grown men chase a leather sphere with the fervor of medieval knights storming the castle. Every single team starts with the same dream of playing in October. We have 162 opportunities for . . . well, who knows? Miracles? Meltdowns? Probably a healthy dose of both.

Where Will You Be Watching?

So, fellow baseball fans of Southern California, with our sprawling freeways and our stubborn love of the game, where will you be watching the 2026 season unfold?

  • Will you brave the traffic for Dodger Stadium, that expansive, welcoming bowl nestled into the Chavez Ravine?

  • Are you heading down to Petco Park to catch the Padres?

  • Or maybe you’ll be at the crossroads of the 57 and the 5 at Angel Stadium?

If you’re like me, you will probably be comfortably settled in front of MLB.TV, happily squinting at a flat screen, trying to catch all the intricate details of a Cubs’ mid-game collapse from the safety of the living room.

Everyone has their team. What excites you this year? What magical moments are you looking forward to? Next time you’re at a Southern California game, look for a Cubs fan cheering from afar. That might be me.
“Go, Cubs, Go, Cubs, Go! Hey Chicago, what do you say? The Cubs are gonna win today.”

I’m Patrick Ball. Stay curious, brace yourselves for the 162-game grind, and enjoy the season! See you in the next episode.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

Confidently Wrong: The Art of the AI Tall Tale

In this episode, A chat with Adamas the Chef on hidden recipes causing digital hallucinations. Pull up a chair and pour yourself a fresh cup of coffee—and please, for your own sake, taste it first. We need to have a quiet chat about why your computer sometimes decides to reinvent reality with the confidence of a five-star chef who has clearly lost his mind. In the world of technology, we call it a  hallucination . It sounds pretty dramatic, doesn’t it? As if the computer decided to ignore your instructions altogether in favor of a vivid, technicolor imagination that simply hasn’t met reality yet. But in truth, an AI hallucination isn’t a breakdown; it’s just a very confident, very polite mistake. Think of it like our friend Adamas , the Chef. Adamas is a master of the kitchen, but he is also a bit of a romantic who refuses to say “I don’t know.” When you ask him for a classic recipe he hasn’t made in years, he doesn’t stop to consult a cookbook—that’s far too pedestrian. Instead, ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Overcooking the Grid

In this episode, terrified of smart toasters, yet demanding infinite electricity for potato personality tests. Pull up that chair again, and let’s hope your coffee is safe this time. In our last chat, we talked about our well-meaning but occasionally delusional AI friend, Chef Adamas, and his penchant for hallucinating blueberries into your Carbonara. We learned how to manage his quirks by keeping our “digital pantry” organized. But today, we need to look past the chef and take a hard look at the sheer size of the kitchen we are building for him. And folks, that kitchen has gotten completely out of hand. Down in Louisiana, tech companies are currently building an artificial intelligence data center the size of 70 football fields. It is a four-million-square-foot digital brain that requires so much electricity they are building three new natural gas power plants just to keep the servers from literally melting down into a puddle of expensive silicon. And what are we using this god-like, ...
1 comment
Read more

Richard T. Liddicoat–Mr. GIA

In this episode, Mr. GIA . . . Can you name one person who, during your lifetime, changed your life in an extraordinary way? Was it a parent, a teacher, a historical figure, or maybe a serendipitous acquaintance? One person stands out among all others -  Richard T. Liddicoat . Sunday, March 2, 2025, would have been Mr. Liddicoat’s 107th birthday. Although he passed away in 2002, his memory lives on in me. In 1985, as a resident student at the Gemological Institute of America (GIA) in Santa Monica, CA, I was invited by Richard T. Liddicoat Jr. (then Chairman of the Board) to his office. Liddicoat was a student of human nature, a lover of gemstones, and a lifetime GIA advocate. He would visit every Resident (on campus) Colored Stone/Gem Identification classroom just before each class was to graduate. He would often bring samples of remarkable gems submitted to the GIA Gem Trade Laboratory for the students to see. He would also stop by a classroom to discuss industry trends, the ...
2 comments
Read more