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Springtime for the Mudville Nine - Michael Davis

No. I'm not flailing headlong into another column based on the weather. Not that there should be anything wrong with that – right?

But I just noticed last night that it was finally springtime, or as they say in la Francaise: le printemps.

There it was. I had been noticing for the past few days that the weather was warming and the grass was starting to grow (and people were starting to cut it), but the totality of the situation hadn't been on my radar?hadn't registered. You'd think I'd be more observant.

Then, I was getting in my car and heading home from work and received loud and clear, the final, be-all-and-end-all notification, a certified letter if you will, that it was officially Spring: a Braves baseball game broadcast on the radio.

I should've seen it coming but I guess I blinked and it crept up behind me.

I'm also not here to celebrate the home team or even the game of baseball. There just seems to be a certain mood or feeling that comes over me when I hear baseball on the radio in the spring; the combination affects my outlook and attitude.

I go to baseball games like I go to hockey games. Not really being a die-hard fan of either, it's more of the spectacle I enjoy.

Once, some friends and I went to a Braves game, I think they were playing the Cincinnati Reds, and between the third and fourth inning, we all got up and went to the bathroom to change into superhero costumes.

My roommate was Superman; his girlfriend was Wonder Woman?she even enhanced her upstairs area with water balloons; and I was Batman. The pants were a little tight and I had trouble seeing the game because of the conflict between the cowl and my glasses, but it was a lot of fun.

We knew we had piqued the interest of the cameramen when we saw ourselves on the giant screen inside the stadium. But we forgot TBS was the "Superstation" until a woman sitting behind us said her sister in Utah called her on her cell phone to tell her she had been seen on TV sitting behind a bunch of nuts in superhero costumes.

For me, sports is not about sports. It's about how much fun you can have and the memories you can build.

And in some ways, and I guess it's the nostalgia I enjoy about baseball on the radio.

I have honestly listened to entire games broadcast on the radio. Not that I haven't watched entire games on television, but it's just not the same.

For one thing, you can get up and go to the fridge while listening to the radio without missing anything.

But I didn't grow up in a time when all we had was radio and I guess I feel like I missed out on something special?a time when there was truly creative and entertaining programming and professional and informative broadcasters.

And that's what baseball on the radio is for me. It's not that it brings me back to the time of the Mudville Nine or sparks memories of sandlots and beat up baseballs with battered stitching. I never had those.

It's just that I imagine that not much has changed from a baseball broadcaster's perspective over the years. I'll bet, but I can't say for sure, that if you listen to a game broadcast yesterday and a game broadcast in 1940, the only difference would be the names.

Michael Davis covers government for the Daily Herald. He can be reached at (770) 957-9161 or by e-mail at mdavis@henryherald.com.