Call me a nerd. Call me old fashioned. Show me a million Steph Curry highlights. It will never change the fact that I need baseball. I need a kid getting a ball tossed to him from a third-baseman, I need a second baseman hitting a home run after his Mom passed away, and I need six Bud-Lights and some Cracker Jacks. People say my generation doesn’t like baseball, but I beg the differ. I won’t lie and say that other leagues aren’t more exciting or easy to follow. All that is true. But there’s something beautiful in the game of baseball that no other sport can recreate. Growing up in a generation where everything is instant, I think a large part of us have become numb to guys dunking on each others faces or ninety-nine-yard punt returns. There’s a part of all of us that can appreciate a guy getting out of a slump, or Shohei Ohtani defying all the odds. This is a good day for everyone. As much as I love seeing girls with their boobs out and throwing a football on the beach, baseball and summer are peanut butter and jelly. God Bless this country, and God Bless baseball.