I was nine years old, sitting comfortably on our worn-out Belgian couch (the one that squeaked whenever someone blinked), when I first laid eyes on a baseball field—courtesy of The Simpsons episode “Homer at the Bat.” Up until that moment, I thought baseball was a made-up sport involving oversized chewing gum and hyperactive mascots. Turns out, it’s real—and Homer Simpson was about to give me the crash course I never knew I needed.

In the episode, Homer and his coworkers assemble a company softball team that’s so desperate to win, Mr. Burns recruits actual Major League stars to help secure a championship. Names like Ken Griffey Jr. and Wade Boggs flew over my head faster than a fastball. But between the guest-star chaos, surreal plot twists, and Homer’s signature cluelessness, I had a lightbulb moment: “So this is what those Americans call a national pastime?”

Of course, in Belgium, baseball ranks somewhere between unicorn racing and underwater basket weaving in terms of national popularity. We’re a land of football (soccer), cycling, and chocolate—baseball might as well be from another planet. But there I was, a nine-year-old who only knew Homer Simpson’s version of a home run, suddenly fascinated by batting averages and pitchers who could apparently throw a ball at supersonic speeds without needing immediate medical attention.

But that’s where it ended—or so I thought. Bear in mind, this was still 1993. We only got new Simpsons episodes in Belgium a year after they aired in the U.S. With no real resources on hand, zero internet access, the attention span of a seriously overexcited labradoodle, and precisely no one to share my newfound obsession with, that little spark inside me quietly fizzled out.
It would take more than 20 years for it to flare up again. But that’s a story for another time

Looking back now, I owe my baseball awakening to that one classic Simpsons episode. Homer might not be the best role model—being a guy who once tried to prove donuts could be a health food—but he’s a perfect example of stumbling into something great by accident. Because in a country that collectively shrugs at baseball, I found myself captivated by it, all thanks to a cartoon dad who got a job as a left fielder for a nuclear power plant team.

So, that’s how my improbable love affair with baseball started. Who would’ve guessed a yellow, donut-obsessed American dad could spark curiosity in a 40-year-old Belgian (well, I was nine at the time—just do the math) about a sport that most folks here don’t even realize exists. But hey, life’s full of odd twists… and sometimes it all begins with a simple “D’oh!”