Thursday, April 12, 2007

Season Tickets Arrive

Season Tickets arrived today: beautiful, classic background of a ball and glove lying in an unmowed, pristine, green field. Section 109 Row H, Seats 1 and 2 (aisle seats were a requirement.) They smell like spring.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

On Missing Opening Day

For the first time in about 10 years I missed Opening Day. That is to say, I didn't call in sick or glue myself to a radio or mlb.tv while at work. I didn't exchange panicked emails with friends concerning a middle inning rally by the Yankees or a flop by the Red Sox Ace (both things apparently happened, but I could have predicted them well in advance...not to say I wouldn't have still completely overreacted once they actually came to fruition.) So without further ado, an examination of how the day of the year, which is typically the most anticipated, became just another Monday. What I was happy to miss, and an admitted lament.

Let's begin with this: thank God I'll not be following the A-Rod saga this year. Yesterday, apparently, was a microcosm of how this year's AL MVP's season is going to go: an early error leading to boos; a single that should have been a routine ground-out, followed by a "gutsy" steal to get the go-ahead run in scoring position; a meaningless HR in the late innings when the game was already into Mariano's hands, and thus over; a curtain call. Here are baseball fans (Yankee fans, Red Sox fans, whomever) at their absolute most fickle and, sadly, most honest: calling up their whipping boy for a curtain call within hours of booing him mercilessly. On opening days past, I would have been following the game on mlb radio, cursing the shrill sound of Suzie Waldman's wretched voice, giddy upon the error, and near despair following the HR. What's amazing is, if you think about it, the situation was inevitable. There was no other way A-Rod's season--the Yankees season--could have begun. Just as it is predictable that they will have a one month swoon from Mid-April to Mid-May, the Sox will take a 4-game lead, only to let it slip away as the All-Star break approaches. Wake me up when that saga ends.

For the die-hard fan, a 4:10 opening day game is about as good as it gets. You can work a full day (just ducking out a bit early) and still catch the game, drink a few beers, and not get to bed late and with your full blatter ensuring a fitful night's sleep. The last two years I would have rushed home from work, the years before that skipped classes and barbecued to tailgate the beginning of the spectacular season. This year I came across the game in the eighth inning, the Sox trailing by six runs, and shrugged, opting instead for Jeopardy. That's right. No cell-phone tossing or childish screaming (although I did let an audible "What?!" escape when Mike Lowell clearly tagged out a "safe" Tony Pena Jr. at third, before I clicked off the game. Hey, old habits die hard.) I went to bed reasonably early last night, my mind not racing with thoughts of a rotation sans an effective Curt Shilling (he'll be back to form in his next start, anyway) or what the Red Sox need to do to get out of the basement (win a couple games) or even how long it will be until Red Sox Nation starts to panic (chances are it is happening now.)

The one regret I have is missing Ben Sheets' best start in a couple years. I almost certainly would have archived this game if not turned it on live as it became apparent that the Red Sox were, once again, stretching their Spring Training out into the first series of the regular season. Sheets has long been one of my favorite pitchers, and nothing speaks to the power of opening day like a guy who has struggled with injury the past few years throwing a gem to signal the start of a new season. Add in the fact that the day is all about hope, ESPECIALLY, for the mid-market teams who are trying to prove they belong (nice W's for the Brewers, Twins, KC, and the Blue Jays) and its a nice reminder of what opening day can mean when it's showing off its very best. It's one thing to cling to every game like it is deeply meaningful to the outcome of the season (even if you know it is not.) It's another thing entirely to value the symbolism of a nice win for a team that needs to prove to itself that they are headed in the right direction. There may not be a single day from here until October where a few of those team's fanbases feel as optimistic as they do this morning (although I happen to believe Minnesota and Milwaukee will be playing meaningful baseball into the colder months.)

So in summary: less manic and rash rectionary behavior on opening day, but a regretful note at missing a few of the days more meaningful moments (and no I don't mean a weepy montage to Yankee's rental-pitcher-cum-apparent-martyr Corey Lidle.) The thing is, in the heat of it, when you're hashing out your teams prospective season, and breaking down their rotation, their lineup, their schedule; when you are making predictions about a 162-game season (sort of like predicting the final product of new construction based on the frame and the plot of land) you get caught up in the game of making it all more meaningful than it actually is. You convince yourself that the first game doesn't mean as much as the 153rd, and you vow that you won't get too worked up too early on. But you always do. You miss the Ben Sheets gem because you're praying for a middle-inning rally from the Sox, or for A-Rod to strike out in that last at-bat. You try to manipulate the inevitable. And then you let the inevitable manipulate you. Sometimes it requires missing a thing entirely to know that even when you were taking part, you were really missing it, entirely.

The Real Opening Day: 1 month from tomorrow.