Dr. Phil! Help Me Fall Back in Love With Baseball

I used to love baseball.

No, not like. Really, really love it.

As a kid, I was a star pitcher and first baseman for a Little League team called the Padres. My brother played in the older division for the Pirates. We used to play countless games of catch in the backyard, at the park, you name it. If we went on a family trip, our gloves went with us.

My mom's side of the family loved the sport, too. There were eight siblings, and my grandfather used to coach many of them. All of us — my aunts and uncles had more than 40 children — would gather every Sunday at my grandparents home in Houston and we would often make our way to the park around the corner for softball.

The hometown team was the Houston Astros. They had a kiddie program called the "Astros Buddies." We got a hat, t-shirt and a package of tickets to home games. Me, my brother and sister loved going to the Houston Astrodome to watch the home team.

I can still feel the nice breeze of the fan in the living room as we watched Houston Astros games on TV. I had hurt my left shoulder playing football in the front yard and stopped playing for years, but I still adored the game.

Baseball books? I devoured them, even memorizing statistics of players that later won me a radio contest.

I played two years if baseball in high school. It really wasn't about the love of the game but a quest to get a letterman's jacket. But when back on the field, I remembered why I loved the game. My shoulder burned with pain — that childhood injury is still with me today — but I persevered, playing a year of JV and my senior year on the varsity.

But the true love affair had diminished. And by the time I went off to college in 1987, it was gone.

I've tried to remember why my passion for the game dissipated, and the only thing I could think of was reading a Sports Illustrated magazine piece that dealt with problems in baseball. I recall a Don Mattingly quote where he said all he wanted to do was come to the park, play and go home.

Forget the autographs. Forget the playing to the fans. It was all about him.

And with that — poof! — baseball lost me.

You might say that's ridiculous for one comment to do it. But reading that really cemented in my mind that the sport a kid loved was ruined by a player not recognizing the value of the team's fans.

So baseball became less important in my life. I began to watch fewer and fewer games. It then reached the point where I could barely watch an inning.

Even when my hometown Astros finally made it to the World Series in 2005, I was happy for them and the city, but that's it. I was living in Chicago at the time and talked trash on my radio show as I rooted against the White Sox. I made no attempt to go to any games and barely remember watching the games on TV.

My baseball Jones was dead. Seemingly gone forever.

This has had nothing to do with the team, but the sport. I love my hometown and cheer for all of our teams. But it reached the point where baseball was boring to me. Too slow, too methodical, not enough action.

I am now an avid golfer and would watch four rounds of golf non-stop before even considering a baseball game.

So three years ago, I tried to rekindle my love affair with baseball. After owning no Houston Astros gear, I bought a jersey. I lived in Chicago for six years and never went to Wrigley Field; I decided to go when the Astros were in town.

The crowd was hyped, lots of energy, but by the fifth inning I wanted to leave. The stadium music was the same as when I was a kid, and it no longer excited me. I didn't go to another game for two years.

Last year, when the Astros came to town to play the Washington Nationals, my wife and I went to two games. I enjoyed the night out with her, but nothing close to the fervor I have for attending a Rockets or Texans game.

In the past year, I've met the new majority owner of the Houston Astros, Jim Crane, played golf with a minority owner, Shawn Taylor, and amped up my Astros gear.

The team hasn't been good for the last two years, but I'm recommitting myself. Maybe it's because they have brought back the old colors from my childhood. Why else would I wear a bright orange jersey?!

Baseball could do a better job to energize the game by stealing some of the marketing pizzazz of the NBA and the NFL. Save for a handful of players, most baseball guys are not known figures across the county. You don't see lots of national commercials led by baseball players.

The previous labor disputes haven't helped. That only solidified anti-baseball feelings of many of us.

But my last point for baseball owners is to ensure the connection between the fans and the players. Don't just retreat to the clubhouse. Make sure fans can touch them, feel them, relate to them.

Now that the baseball season has begun, I'm going to do my best in 2013 and not just rock my Houston Astros gear, but recommit myself to the game. Just like a lost love from years ago, I'll slowly get to know baseball, see how we've both changed, and if the love rekindles, we'll see if we can live happily ever after.

Roland S. Martin is an award-winning CNN analyst and author of the book "The First: President Barack Obama's Road to the White House as Originally Reported by Roland S. Martin." Please visit his website at RolandSMartin.com. To find out more about Roland S. Martin and read his past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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