Here’s a quick summary of my off-season survival plan:
The World Series ends in October, and the dark days begin. Quite literally here in Boston as we change the clocks to make the days Alaska-short. But it’s OK, we have football. Championship football. So I muddle through the holidays into the playoffs, usually some hot-stove action keeping the baseball senses sharp.
By that time, the equipment truck and pitchers and catchers are getting ready to head south. And for the past two years, I’ve had plane tickets to Florida and baseball tickets to City of Palms Park to keep me going. Not the case this year.
But hey, I figure I’ve got spring training games and the World Baseball Classic to bridge the gap until opening day. Well, I’m here to tell you IT ISN’T WORKING!
I can’t watch WBC, I can’t watch Schill pitch against college kids. I can’t watch some guy hit who I know will be playing in Lowell all summer. I. Just. Can’t.
I need opening day. I need stats that count. I need the rivalry and competetion and anger and joy that only real baseball games bring me. I’ve tried it all; therapy, building birdhouses, suspended animation, everything. I’m praying March Madness and a nice BC run will help. But I need my fix. Soon.
