Article Contributed on: 3/27/2008 7:31:19 PM
Back before the Pennant, when a Championship title existed only in our imaginations. When the reports of yesterday's game remaind burried beneath Sudoku squares and high school golf scores.
Back when the cover of the sports section was reserved for the "real athletes" of a world engulfed by football and March Madness.That was where my infatuation for America's past time began.
Before the crowds of fair-weather-fans swarmed Coors Field. I was there. Surrounded by an intimate mass of true fans in dire support of the team we love, no matter the outcome.
Through thick and thin I remained in those seats waving home-made signs adorned with magic marker and fluently shouting Rockies slogans.
Even after wrecking my steed, exiting the ER furnished with a neck brace, I continued to celebrate in my team's triumphs and mourn in their defeats.
Armed with only my prized autographed
Tulo jersey, my equally devoted comrade, and the passion in my heart I continued to find myself seated in my haven of the Mile High City.
My biggest fear for this upcoming season remains the apprehension of defending my deep devotion to the horde of fair-weather-fans that will undoubtably be infesting the gates at Coors Field.