Jeremy Speer

The sun came out this week, the temperature rose a little bit, and my mind got to wandering.

The first sunny, warm day of the year always conjures up the same image in my head. In Northern Michigan, this day didn’t normally come until late March, or even early April.

One year, in the midst of elementary school, I could feel coming as the afternoon began. It was sunny and warm — a multi-sense conjuring of hope. Visions of biking, playing and endless summer days with friends danced in my head.

On this day, everything lined up for the perfect afternoon. With no Little League practice and no commitments, I booked it home after the final school bell rang, throwing my jacket in the entryway and rushing upstairs to my room.

There, I tuned in my radio — the kind where you had to turn the knob just right to reach your station’s ideal clarity. The sound of Detroit Tigers legendary broadcaster Ernie Harwell filled the room of this young boy, as I imagined the scene at the ballpark. If it was this nice in Alpena, I wonder how nice it was in Detroit?

“A man from Saginaw just caught that foul ball,” Harwell said, me wondering how the heck he knew that.

I hung on every word, cheering my Tigers every at bat, hoping to will my favorite team to early-season success as rays of spring’s promise lit my room.

More than 30 years later, this feeling hits me with a packed punch of nostalgia each time God delivers the first sweet, sunny day of the calendar year.

Here, in Ohio, that day often comes earlier, and I felt it Tuesday when a mid-week snow melter came barreling in on the heels of seemingly endless cold, dark, windy days.

It was the day before pitchers and catchers were set to officially kick off spring training.

I left for lunch on this day, my window rolled down in hopes of maximizing the vibes. When I returned, I was met with some great news — my favorite baseball player, Justin Verlander, was returning to the Tigers after being traded away in 2017. It was a one-year deal for Verlander, 43, who will likely retire after the season as a Tiger. Born just two months before me, I watched Verlander and others rise my favorite team into a perennial contender. Many evenings in my 20s were spent with friends at Comerica Park, cheering on my local team, who fell just short multiple times of winning it all.

Immediately, my mind danced of that kid listening to his little old radio.

My Tigers haven’t won a World Series since a 5-year-old fan discovered an Alan Trammell card in his first opened pack of baseball cards, making him a fan for life.

Maybe, just maybe this will be the year.

Cleveland and Cincinnati fans: You also know the feeling. It’s been a long, long time.

But hope springs eternal on warm February days like this.

Every year, on the dawn on Spring Training, Harwell poetically read this passage from the Song of Solomon (2:11-12), prior to his passing in 2010.

“For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.”

It’s been a rough winter, but good times are ahead. Happy baseball season, and happy sunshine season.