It feels about 20 below right now in Boston, and there’s talk of yet another snowstorm later today (thanks, Snow Miser!). But in my heart, it’s about 85 degrees with a light southwesterly breeze and a chance of Orsillo. Because tonight, motherf@#kers, baseball is back on my television. Red Sox baseball. It’s pre-season, sure, and against the Twins. But I wouldn’t care if they were playing Gene Shalit, Mark Hamill and the guy who worked the R2-D2 costume in the parking lot behind Blanchard’s in West Roxbury. I’d be there, booze in one hand, foam finger on the other. Because it’s Red Sox baseball. Fresh, all-new, never-before-seen Red Sox baseball. And it’s just the thing to take the edge off shoveling myself out for the fifteenth time this winter.
As much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t bust with James Earl Jones’ “people will come” bit from Field of Dreams, as it’s an Official Opening Day tradition, and will just have to wait a month. Instead, I went with the “wanna have a catch?” bit. Folks, there are only two movies that make cry. One is The Animal with Rob Schneider (hey, his acting was so good, I actually felt for the guy and his plight to be a normal human again). The other is Field of Dreams. Specifically, this scene:
My dad’s not here anymore. But I know he’ll be watching tonight, that rascal. So will I.
