If I were to say the words “October baseball” to you, you would instantly be able to picture it in your imagination. You know exactly how October baseball looks, feels, and sounds. You see the bundled-up fans in the stands, you see the FOX score bug on the screen, you hear the crowd roar for a two-out double that plates a run in the bottom of the first.
If I were to say the words “August baseball” to you, you’d be able to picture that, too. And that’s the case even though October baseball and August baseball are near polar opposites — the former cold, tense, loud, urgent; the latter hot and languid, pleasant background noise to the dog days of summer.
The baseball season has its own unique rhythm. And each phase it passes through is integral to the composition as a whole. You wouldn’t want every game to feel like October — that would be far too stressful. Nor would you want every game to feel like August — you need to get the blood flowing every now and then. But the two months complement each other. You need them both. The baseball season is a story that unfolds in a familiar and necessary pattern.
You need May baseball, which is what I would call Settling-In Season. May is when you finally get used to the new faces on the team and when the team starts to define itself. You need June baseball, aka Porch Season, when summer kicks on and the fireflies flutter at dusk and the novelty of the new season wears off, allowing baseball to assume its rightful place as part of everyday life. You need July baseball, when, thanks to the All-Star Game and the increased trade chatter, you start to focus a little bit more on the rest of the league — which superstar is on pace for a historic season, which slow-starting team is revealing itself to be merely a bad team, and which surprising team is going to make itself a fixture of your MLB.TV routine for the rest of the summer. And, of course, you need September baseball, Pennant Chase Season, the aficionado’s October, when scoreboard-watching becomes as intense as watching the game itself.
This brings us to the current month, to April baseball. And there’s no question what April Baseball is. It’s Freak-Out Season. These are the days when everything is magnified beyond all reason or rationality. Luxuriating in the euphoria of baseball’s return, we hang on every pitch in a way that will seem obsessive and weird in just a few weeks time. We marvel at some hot-shot rookie and wonder if he’s going to single-handedly change the complexion of the playoff race. (What’s up, Chase DeLauter!) We wonder whether a team we assumed would be dominant is actually fatally flawed. (Hello, 2018 Dodgers!) We can’t believe that a young and unpedigreed reliever-turned-starter has thrust himself into the Cy Young race. (I haven’t forgotten you, 2024 Tanner Houck!)
And here’s the thing about Freak-Out Season: it’s fun as hell! Even if we know that Chase DeLauter will not shatter the single-season home run record, that the Dodgers will not finish several games under .500, that Tanner Houck will come back down to Earth, it’s fun to imagine the most extreme possibilities. And this applies to both the good and the bad.
These April freak-outs become the things we remember and laugh about a few months or even years later. Remember the closer-by-committee disaster of April 2003? Remember when the Yankees opened up a launching pad of a ballpark that would prove to be even worse than Coors Field in April 2009? Remember the hilarious torpedo bat freak-out of just last year?? Twelve months ago I was freaking out because I was genuinely convinced that the delicate balance between hitter and pitcher had been forever altered. What a silly, naive fool I was! Thanks a lot, Anthony Volpe!
April baseball is novelty — new players, new ballparks, new rules — and we don’t always know how to handle it. And that’s fine. Freaking out is what the calendar demands of us. And even if you yourself don’t want to freak out, let other fans enjoy this time in their own way. You may be correct that Garrett Crochet will not throw a dud in fifty percent of his starts this year and that Caleb Durbin will not go 0-for-the-next-six-months. But you don’t actually get anything for being right about baseball on the internet and policing other fans’ behavior is lame as hell.
So go ahead and enjoy the extremes of Freak-Out Season, just as you enjoy the extremes of winter. Call for Alex Cora to be fired for failing to properly prepare the team for the ABS era. Demand Caleb Durbin be sent down to AAA. Declare Ranger Suárez to be the worst free agent signing in team history, non-Sandovalian division. Do these things not because you will be proven right (you probably won’t) but because fandom demands emotion and because the calendar calls on you to do so.
There is a time and a place for taking a measured and considered view of baseball, for reminding yourself of just how long a baseball season is and for staying calm. That time is called August and we don’t need another one. This is April. And in its own, chaotic, fevered way, it’s great. Embrace it.
