There is a particular kind of blackness that settles over a Sunday when the Cardinals take to the field, and this coming fixture carries it in spades. The game time has been set, the hour carved into the week like a notch on an oul' gatepost, and every supporter worth their salt knows the weight of what is coming. Sure, it is only baseball — but only a fool would say it to a Redbird man's face. The Sunday game time is the thing we plan our whole day around, the fixed point in a drifting weekend, the moment when the city holds its breath and the shadows start to crawl across the diamond.
By the time the first pitch is thrown, the light will have gone thin and grey, the kind of light that makes you reach for the light switch before you're strictly ready. That is the mood of it — a Sunday game time that feels less like an invitation and more like a summons. The lads will have the tea on, the radio crackling in the corner for those who cannot make it down, and the aul' superstitions will be out in force: the same seat, the same jersey, the same muttered prayer before the national anthem. It is grim work, supporting a side on a Sunday, and the black humour of the terrace knows it well. Win or lose, there is a reckoning coming, and the game time is the moment it lands.
Patience, sure, is the ouldest virtue in the game. The wait between the announcement and the throw-in is long and low, like a storm that refuses to break. But that is part of the craic, is it not? The anticipation, the slow burn, the way the whole town seems to slow down in the hours before the Sunday game time. There are those who will tell you the match is only a match, that there is no sense in letting the black dog of a losing run get its teeth into your week. They are wrong, of course, but they are grand company all the same. The ballpark will be packed, the roar will go up like smoke from a chimney, and for a few hours the gloom will lift, whether the Cards deliver or not. That is the beauty of it — the game time is fixed, but the hope is not. So mark the hour, mind the clock, and get yourself in the door before the first pitch drops. Sunday is coming, and it will not wait for anyone.
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