I called in sick to work for the first time in months on Friday. I’d been fighting some seasonal nonsense all week, and finally, I just needed a day to stay in, keeping my path no more ambitious than the bed to the couch and back.
In the middle of the day, there was a Red Sox Spring Training game on TV. I watched a couple of innings before losing interest. I was so out of it and so far from having baseball on the brain that I couldn’t focus on who was playing and why.
Thanks to a historic and depressing winter, this has been a month where all my old baseball rituals have flown out the door.
March has been thrown all out of whack in the Boston area thanks to freezing temperatures threatening to creep into April and the slogging weather exhaustion that affects everything. My girlfriend and I haven’t gone out to eat as much, or even on walks around the city, as much as would be typical for now. It has snowed every weekend for the past 10 weeks, a stretch that dates back to the first January blizzard. It’s always cold here, of course, but this has long gone past absurdity, and among the casualties has been any kind of usual baseball excitement.
The most basic of exercises would simply be watching Spring Training games on TV. Rather than serving as some kind of escape, it’s just a drag, with no enthusiasm coming in to the experience. Despite the calendar, it’s still winter, we still have plastic up on the windows and I don’t feel like watching sun-baked fans under palm trees casually enjoy Clay Buchholz going through his reps. I haven’t spent any kind of time scribbling out possible 25-man rosters in notebooks. I haven’t even watched Bull Durham yet.
So, what’s there to pull me back into baseball mode? If nothing else, there’s David Ortiz. Continue reading