Readers who find this blog by clicking “Red Sox” in my blogger profile will be disappointed by the lack of baseball content here. You won’t find a play-by-play recap after each game, telling you who hit a towering blast over the green monster, who made a tremendous spiderman-like grab in right field, or who was throwing a blazing fastball and making the opponents look silly. I leave that to the many superb baseball bloggers out there.
I may not give you game details, but I can tell you why I love it. It slows me down. It takes my mind off of the never-ending stress, demands, and deadlines that fill up my days. It moves slowly. I can knit a sock, talk to my husband, and watch a game all at the same time. It’s like an old friend. Beginning in early spring as the equipment trucks roll out of Fenway through the slushy streets of Boston headed south for City of Palms Park – all the way to the start of October, as the leaves are showing the first signs of gold and red, I can look forward to listening to the antics (and brilliance) of Jerry and Don, watching the heroics of Papi and ‘Tek, admiring the understated, exceptional athleticism of Bill Mueller, and just rooting along for my team.
Last year was tremendous, unbelieveable, majestic. But this year was a joy too, despite the way it ended. I can’t wait for it to start again. (Only 130 days til pitchers and catchers report.) In the meantime, let’s go Angels.