This time of year, we’re all in first place

Opening Day is upon us. Happiness and confidence reign over the land.

I am so optimistic about the Seattle Mariners’ prospects this year that I have invested in a share of a season ticket (eight games worth) so that I can be part of this historic, precedent-setting season.

Why so historic? Because the Mariners are ranked 25th out of 30 in the Sports Illustrated season preview. This will make their subsequent World Championship even more unlikely, more dramatic, more hard-earned and more profoundly, profoundly satisfying.

Does this sound like nothing but idiotic, misplaced optimism? Of course it does. Idiotic, misplaced optimism is the ruling principle of Opening Day. This explains why Opening Day feels so good.

And the good news is, the Opening Day principle applies to many facets of life beyond baseball.

For instance, I’m feeling a kind of Opening Day of Gardening Season optimism right now. I have a set of seed packets all lined up on my counter, ready to plant. I am daydreaming about beautiful, spotless poblano peppers, pristine Yukon Gold potatoes and the sweetest, ripest beefsteak tomatoes ever to grace a tomato cage.

Never mind that my garden would be ranked 25th out of 30 if Bad Gardener Weekly had a season preview of my block. I am dimly aware of the reality that awaits me: Inept tillage, a cooler-than-average June, an inexplicable case of wilt, an infestation of some weird little white buggy things and that inevitable moment when I stop weeding and allow the entire garden to revert to a primeval jungle state.

Yet these are not Opening Day thoughts. Here’s what I’m thinking today: I should enter my garlic in the Interstate Fair. My garlic is going to kick some major allium this year.

Something about this time of year lends itself to these blindly cheerful thoughts, probably because spring has always been the season of fresh beginnings, green growth and sunny potential. People have always equated springtime with rebirth and redemption, which is why Easter fits so snugly into its season. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe these attributes actually pre-date the existence of baseball.

So I’ll bet, if you think about it, you can come up with all kinds of examples of cheerful Opening Day thoughts. Maybe you’re thinking: I’m feeling good about my Bloomsday prospects this year. I’m going to break that three-hour mark once and for all.

Or maybe you’re thinking: This is the year when my career really comes together. I’ll complete that big project and earn that big promotion. Heck, I might even finally get benefits!

Or maybe you’re thinking: This will be my best dirt-biking season ever. My bike is in tune, my form has come together, and I will rule the dirt track. What difference does it make if I’m a 48-year-old mother of five?

Me, my thoughts turn toward summertime pursuits such as fishing. As a matter of fact, today is the day when our new Washington State fishing licenses take effect, so this is an Opening Day of a certain kind, not to be confused with the actual Opening Day of lake season later this month.

I have just booked a few nights at our favorite cabin on the West Fork of the Bitterroot River in Montana. Having a fly-fishing trip safely booked produces the exact same endorphins in my brain as Opening Day of baseball season. I am lost in a serene reverie of perfect, sun-lit days in the upper 70s, cold mountain water flowing Perrier-clear, moose grazing picturesquely in meadows and bright, fat cutthroat trout slashing savagely at my gaudy salmon-fly imitations.

Of course, it’s just as likely that the days will be gray, the water muddy, the moose surly and cutthroat trout sulky and petulant.

In the same way, I dimly recognize the likelihood that the Seattle Mariners will immediately evince a fatal weakness in starting pitching, an alarming inability to hit for power, and a total incapacity to keep a Japanese superstar happy.

Yet that’s for next week. Today, all is perfect and pristine. Until Opening Day, the Mariners are undefeated.