They're packing their bags to head for Florida. Pitchers and catchers will report to spring training at the end of this week. The first breath of this year's life is about to be taken, a rushing warm feeling of energy and rebirth. I sit restless, staring out an office window at the remnants of a winter's storm, dreaming of hot dogs and cheering and shorts and sunshine. The waiting is always eternal, isn't it? The cold slows time, teasing us with a spot of warmth here and there, only to rip us back into the reality of the season, torturing us with the memories of a Dunn homerun or a Patterson strikeout. I pull my Reds winter cap over my head, step outside of the office, and wish I could turn left instead of right and head down to the Metro to catch a game at RFK.
Commentary on baseball and society, baseball and philosophy, baseball and history, and baseball and baseball.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Dreaming of Summer
They're packing their bags to head for Florida. Pitchers and catchers will report to spring training at the end of this week. The first breath of this year's life is about to be taken, a rushing warm feeling of energy and rebirth. I sit restless, staring out an office window at the remnants of a winter's storm, dreaming of hot dogs and cheering and shorts and sunshine. The waiting is always eternal, isn't it? The cold slows time, teasing us with a spot of warmth here and there, only to rip us back into the reality of the season, torturing us with the memories of a Dunn homerun or a Patterson strikeout. I pull my Reds winter cap over my head, step outside of the office, and wish I could turn left instead of right and head down to the Metro to catch a game at RFK.
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