How does this happen to me every year? I spend all winter constructing scale models of the upcoming season’s players out of Cap’n Crunch. I update my advent-like calendar, counting down to Truck Day. I wait patiently as the eternity we call Spring Training unfolds. And finally, rebirth, Opening Day. Then, somehow, I blink my eyes and it’s the All-Star break.
It’s like a cruel joke, that half the season, half the summer, have passed. And for the first time I can remember, I have not been to a single ballgame at Fenway, or anywhere. And to add to the pain, we get to extend our no-baseball-bender an extra day as the Sox don’t play again until Friday.
The team has surpassed all expectations, even those of the giddiest optimists. Is it a testament to John Farrell and the players, or a condemnation on just how bad Bobby Valentine really was? Either way, it’s all on hold until Friday. Drink, make merry, fornicate…but keep your eye on the calendar. It will be the stretch run before you know it.
