Offseason journal: Day 91

Day 91: Baseball, hotdogs, apple pie, and various baseball-related hallucinations

It’s reached the point where I’m literally substituting baseball words & story lines into the lyrics of songs I hear playing on the radio.

“Only pick him off if he starts to go, only call a balk if he lifts his toe, only take a fastball when it’s 3-0. . . and it’s 3-0.”

The countdowns to “truck day” have begun, and only a few more days until the big football game is over (and we don’t have to hear the “word” PHYSICALITY until next football season the NFL draft).


I feel like Tyrone Biggums.  Absolutely jonesing for baseball right now.  We had a warm day in St. Louis a week or so ago, when temps approached 70 degrees.  I could almost smell the $2,400 beers, and taste the $500 “ultimate ballpark nachos”.  I was talking to a colleague at work yesterday, and was talking about how I was so ready to watch a game, I didn’t care if it was the Padres & Orioles squaring off.   And as the words “Padres and Orioles” came out of my mouth, a smile came across my face that six UFC fighters and four crowbars couldn’t remove.

I’m SO ready!

Driving around the county this afternoon, I glanced at the time, and realized that, at 7:06pm, it was dark outside.  I couldn’t help but think about how it wouldn’t be long and 7:06pm would be the start of a regular tradition, born anew.  My mind started to wander to the nights from April to September, when, after the Cards game, I need just a LITTLE more, so I’d watch the A’s or Mariners (I know, right?) on MLB.TV.  Or, if the schedule worked out just right, lie in bed and fall asleep watching the Dodgers on my iPad, listening to the legendary Vin Scully.  Thank God he’s coming back again this year.  Count your blessings, folks, after Harwell, Kalas, Buck, and others of that ilk, there aren’t many left!

But I say unto you this day, fear not, for the days of Old Man Winter are numbered.  That icy S.O.B. will soon have no choice but to give way to the sights & sounds of spring training…you know the ones:

  • The sounds of “pop!” in catchers mitts all across Florida and Arizona
  • Veterans on the brink of retirement telling us they’re “in the best shape of their life”
  • Managers talking about all the competition for spots on the roster, and how “nobody is guaranteed a roster spot”
  • Shaky iPhone videos of a pitcher throwing a few pitches (from 30 or 40 feet away)
  • And, of course, the interviews you can barely hear because of the wind blowing over the microphone the whole time


I.         Cant.         Wait.

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