Today is an auspicious day. It’s Super Bowl Sunday. You know what that means, right? Only a few more weeks until the start of Spring Training.

The old adage goes, “there are two kinds of people …” It’s true. There are cat people and dog people, there are Marvel folks and DC folks, and there are football fans and baseball fans. There is no overlap. Pick one and stick with it.

I’m a baseball fan. Maybe it’s because I love Charlie Brown and his ever-hopeful attempts to win a baseball game. Maybe it’s because my high school math teacher looked exactly like Kent Tekulve, pitcher for the Pittsburgh Pirates. What’s not to like about the name Tekulve? Maybe it’s because I played softball as a kid, standing in the outfield hoping the ball never came my way, but still enjoying the smell of the glove and the sound of the ball cracking against the bat.

I grew up watching the St. Petersburg, Florida Cardinals play minor league baseball. My parents would get free tickets at the grocery store promotions, so the whole family could go. The baseball field was nestled in the heart of downtown St. Petersburg, with open bleachers and a roof that provided shade for most of the seats. There was this old guy selling peanuts, who strolled through the bleachers singing his wares. The front seats were always filled with beefy men in their shirtsleeves smoking cigars. Every seat in the bleachers gave a great view of the baseball field.

The minor league players were young and fast and hungry. They didn’t necessarily hit massive home runs, but they gave us a good show, and then they signed autographs afterwards. It was always fun to see the rare player go on to make it in the majors.

I remember that day, during an afternoon game, when one of Florida’s daily thunderstorms hit. Everyone knew that the storm would unleash torrential rain, thunder and lightning and then move on, so the game was merely delayed. The grounds crew covered the field with a huge black tarp, and the fans huddled under the partial roof to stay mostly dry. But the players didn’t even try to stay in out of the rain. One by one they dove headfirst into the puddles forming on that slip and slide of a tarp, giving the crowd another reason to cheer for the team. I remember thinking how unfair it all was — my mother never let me play outside in the puddles during a thunderstorm. Baseball players just got it that way, I guess.

Sports are often seen as a metaphor for life. In football, the goal is to knock each other over to gain control of the ball. In baseball the goal is to run around the bases fast enough to make it home. Baseball is played on a diamond — if that’s not a metaphor, I don’t know what is. Every game has a winner and a loser, and another chance to win another day. Players can miss the ball twice as often as they hit it, and still have a great batting average.

One truly enjoyable aspect of baseball is the statistics. Did I just say that? The game of baseball has so many moving parts that, despite its long history, there is a new record being set almost every game. Take Kent Tekulve, for instance. His Wikipedia article lists, among other records, that “Tekulve owns the career records for most appearances and innings pitched without making a single start.” There’s actually a category for “most innings pitched without making a single start” in the baseball statistics books. Gotta love this game!

Okay, I lied. There can be crossover between baseball fans and football fans. After all, Charlie Brown spent the off-season trying to kick the football before Lucy snatched it away. Sure, I’ll go to the Super Bowl party and enjoy the good company, the snacks and the awesome commercials. I’ll even watch the game, hoping to see a long run with no defenders within reach. But keep in mind that I’m a baseball fan at heart. I’ll be cheering the touchdowns and quarterback sacks, while dreaming of the start of Spring Training, just a few short weeks away.

• Peggy McKee Barnhill is a wife, mother and aspiring author who lives in Juneau. She likes to look at the bright side of life.