Brad Pitt once said, "It's hard not to be romantic about baseball." As I write this, I am watching the Pittsburgh Pirates dominate the New York Mets, surrounded by my favorite people, and eating Shake Shack. Sorry, but if you think baseball is irrelevant or stupid you should probably leave this article page and never return. Also, I think you are irrelevant and stupid.

I have spent all of my 20 years loving baseball. You could say it's a family affair. I spent the first 14 worshipping the Colorado Rockies, the next year supporting the Texas Rangers, and the past 5 loving every brutal second of the Pirates' spectacular rise to greatness. I have sobbed inconsolably (2007, 2010, and 2013 were tumultuous seasons) and screamed at the top of my lungs as my favorite player hit a grand slam. Baseball games were a staple of family gatherings, and I will always cherish those memories, whether we crushed or were crushed.

Baseball is an unpredictable sport. Your pitcher could throw 7 perfect innings, and then allow 13 runs. It's a scary and exhilarating experience that can simultaneously crush your soul and make you happy as a clam. It is something that can make or break friendships, something that often wholly consumes your everyday life. Baseball has a fascinating and moving history that even baseball-haters can't deny. There's a reason there are so many baseball movies, and why it's known as the "American pastime."

Don't get me wrong - I love sports as much as the next person (except golf, because that "sport" is about as exciting as watching paint dry). There's just something about baseball, though. You walk into any stadium and there's an immediately perceivable air of magic, like anything can happen. Excuse my Romanticism, but you do feel the convergence of the team's history and its future as soon as you take your seat. It's hard not to be affected by that.

I was raised in baseball stadiums. I learned that hard work and determination pay off, maybe not right away, but definitely with time. I learned that you can strikeout in the bottom of the ninth with bases loaded and lose the game, and still show up to the stadium the next day with your head high and your batting arm ready. I learned that rooting for the underdog can be a chaotically rewarding experience, but that with enough perseverance, anyone can make it to the World Series. Most of all, I learned that it's not about the destination - however prestigious it may be - it's about the journey. And what a journey it is.