It's not odd, it's opening day

Sometimes a person can walk into a place, or a corner of an office, at just the wrong moment.

Valley Life editor Casey Ressler and I share a corner of the Frontiersman newsroom affectionately known as the testosterone zone. It's the place in the office that sometimes smells of equal parts coffee and other unmentionable male odors and has the tendency to reek of ego. It's the place where Ressler's dirty dishes go to die.

The conversation in the testosterone zone normally centers around all of the useless knowledge we have collected throughout are lives. And most of that useless knowledge has something to do with sports.

People dare to walk into our zone and conversations, and normally leave our corner either laughing or crying, but always confused.

One of our reporters, Kate Golden, found that out this week.

As Kate walked up behind our desks, Casey stared intently on his computer screen, then stood up and smacked his hands and shouted, "Phillies score."

As Kate gave us that look - that "you're crazy" look - she asked, "How old are you?"

"30," Casey said. "But it's opening day."

That's what she didn't understand. It was opening day.

And that's what other women don't understand. They don't quite have a grasp on what opening day is all about.

My fiancee does not quite understand why, every season, I consider testing just how secure my job is here at the Frontiersman. Just by coincidence, or Murphy's Law, I seem to have a deadline during the Chicago Cubs' season opener every year.

But opening day is all about the new beginning - all the new possibilities. It is like the first day you walk on to your college campus. A season of uncharted territory in front of you. But for many fans, September is like the final week of school. A few more wins, or just attending a few more classes, and you would be advancing further, rather than going home on academic probation.

The new hope, that's what opening day is all about.

Frontiersman sports editor Jeremiah Bartz knows far too much about going from the feeling of new hope to watching his Cubs falter in September. But every April there is always hope.