March is special because it brings the boys of summer to my back yard. March signals Spring Training, the annual ritual performed by Major League Baseball. Every year, professional baseball teams make small and large cities in Florida their home for one month. One precious month that annually fills my head with hundreds of lifelong memories.

For the teams, Spring Training represents a new beginning, a time when any one of them could be starting its pilgrimage to the World Series. The players seem to be different. They don’t have their game face on. They’re accessible and converse with the fans. They don’t seem to be there to win; they come to Florida to prepare.

For me, Spring Training represents the best Major League Baseball has to offer. For just a few dollars, I’m able to spend an afternoon with the heroes I read about and watch on television all summer long. I might even have the chance to meet the superstars of my youth. My first Spring Training memory actually comes from my father, because I was too young to remember it. Since I lived in Boston as a young boy, the Red Sox were and still are my favorite team. I would trade any baseball card with my neighbor just to have the card of a relief pitcher from the Red Sox. And, most of all, I liked Jim Rice. Outfielder Jim Rice had it all. He was cool. He could swing the bat. He made great plays. He was the personification of the Red Sox to me.

When I was in third grade, we moved to Orlando. I was lucky. The Red Sox trained in Winter Haven’s Chain of Lakes Park when I was growing up. It was just an hour or so from my Orlando home, so my father and I would make an annual pilgrimage to see the Red Sox up close.

After one game, I had my chance to meet my hero. Jim Rice stood nearby. Getting an autograph would be no problem. I could just walk up to him and ask. There’s no way he would say no. .