The 125th season of Major League Baseball begins this week at Oracle Park in San Francisco as the Giants host the New York Yankees. Traditionalists may scoff at the spectacle: opening night in March instead of opening day in April, interleague play right out of the gate, the introduction of the Automated Ball-Strike System (ABS) or the “robo umpire” option, and a telecast exclusively on Netflix – all part of a $50 million per year broadcast deal.

Yet, even in the timeless sport of baseball, nothing stays the same forever. Recency bias may leave many thinking professional sports has spiraled into a money morass. In reality, it’s always been a business. Tension between owners and players goes back to the beginning.

“It isn’t right to call me or any ballplayer an ingrate because we ask for more money,” lamented the legendary Babe Ruth. “Sure, I want more, all I’m entitled to. The time of a ballplayer is short. He must get his money in a few years or lose out … Don’t make any difference if it’s baseball or a bank or a vaudeville show. It’s business, I tell you.”

Coming off three consecutive 100-plus-loss seasons, it might be difficult for Rockies’ fans to forget about the growing disparity between Colorado’s payroll ($125 million) and the Los Angeles Dodgers (pushing $400 million). It’s an old adage you usually get what you pay for, but fans of the Rockies and baseball still get a whole lot, even when the team comes up short

“Do what you can, with what you have, where you are,” recommended Theodore Roosevelt. When it comes to baseball and anything else, we’d all be wise to heed TR’s advice.

The New York Mets were on their way to losing 96 games in 1978 when my dad took me to my first ballgame at Shea Stadium. I was 6 and he was 46. It was the beginning of my love affair with the sport. We’d go to countless games together over the next 40 years.

I have a scrapbook of ticket stubs, and I suppose I could tell you who won some of the games – but not many. But I vividly remember how comforting it felt to be carried on my dad’s shoulders, to put my little hand in his big one as we navigated a busy subway or stadium concourse. I remember “Bat Day,” “Poncho Day,” “Strawberry Sunday,” and the afternoon he got whacked in the head by a hot dog vendor’s case. On another, I took a foul ball off my chin. I didn’t get the ball, but its laces made a physical impression. That a ball off a MLB bat hit my face somehow softened the blow.

These days, it seems everyone complains about the Rockies, urging the Monforts to double or triple the payroll—or sell the team to someone who will. There will be lots of talk this season about a lockout next season. I get it. Like the Babe said, it’s a business.

Only it’s not a business to me. It’s a repository of spring, summer, and fall memories, first with my dad – and now with our sons. I don’t know what they’ll remember, but I wouldn’t trade all the games Julie and I have attended with Riley, Will, and Alex for any money.

On Riley’s fifth birthday, we happened to be attending a game with his biological mother and grandmother. Carlos Gonzalez, who was number 5, hit for the cycle that night, including the game-winning homer in the ninth. It was electric. They finished 9 back in 2010, but even middling teams have great nights.

Almost 21, Riley graduated from UCCS in December. He’s still home for the start of this season, but will be in law school somewhere else when it ends. We couldn’t be prouder of him, but where did the time go? With a son about to take on the world, I can’t help but see the parallels between baseball and life.

Wrote Bart Giamatti, the late baseball commissioner, “It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.”

Love and baseball often look alike. If you have both, consider yourself blessed. The Rockies open their season on Friday. Play ball!

Paul J. Batura is a local writer and founder of the 4:8 Media Network. He can be reached via email Paul@PaulBatura.com or on X @PaulBatura.