Re: Our story thus far
posted at 5/15/2012 4:59 AM EDT
We are just a few days away from a point where we will be able to tell if the Red Sox can right the ship and make the playoffs.
Doesn't look good now but wait. Just wait. Give it a few more days. The Yankees stunk in 2009 until Mid-May, when they turned on their afterburners and won the whole shebang.
So wait. The same could happen here.
Um, or not.
But even if it does not, please! No jumping off the ledge! No swan dives from the Zakim bridge. This team is not worth that; nothing is, in fact.
I am going to give all of you some advice, and it is worth what you just paid for it.
Enjoy the season.
That's right. Enjoy it for what it is: a journey through time with your fellow humans.
Fellow humans like Andrew Mitch? Oh boy, Summer, you really raised a difficult challenge there.
Stop drinking Red Bull for breakfast. No more listening to WEEI on the way to work and spitting bullets into your morning coffeee.
No more yelling at Josh Beckett. John Lackey? Who he? A sad case of anger management gone awry. All the money in the world, with personal issues, family isses, and half of Red Sox Nation wanting to lop off his head. He's the lucky, rich one. Right?
You tell 'em, Summer! Every multi-millionaire is entitled to their day off on the golf links. Lat muscles be damned.
I bet if he could trade the contract and the money for a healthy family and peace of mind, he would do it.
Mike Kekich and Fritz Peterson tried that out in the 70s. I'm not sure it worked out so well for Kekich, although Peterson is still married to Kekich's ex.
I never thought of this as a mutually exclusive proposition (the contract and money for healthy family and peace of mind swap, not the aforementioned wife swap) unless you believe in sort of a reverse Faust.
So stop obsessing about the people places and things that you cannot change.
Good idea. I'll start obsessing about the people places and things I can change instead.
Which brings us to my take on the season so far. Now, pay attention because there will be a quiz later.
Wait. It's coming.
Okay, here it is.
It doesn't matter.
I will say it again: It doesn't matter.
Stop whining. Do something else this summer. Take a vacation. Talk to your spouse about a private little getaway and then make sure the both of you get away.
Very presumptuous, Summer. Maybe your spouse needs to get away. From you, that is. Or vice-versa. Spending too much time together in some private little getaway may make you pine for the moments when you use the Red Sox and the chatboard as your convenient distraction and getaway.
Maybe take the kids. Hug them every day. Marvel at their resilience and their capacity to laugh. You can learn a lot from your spouse and kids. So what are you waiting for? Learn something from them.
I've learned that they don't like to be hugged.
And while you are at it, take a fresh look at baseball, and at the young players in the farm system. Get to the park early some day, and walk around during BP. And don't just listen to the sounds of baseball - hear them as well.
If you're waxing poetic, I thought it was the other way around. Hearing is involuntary, and listening is voluntary. And speaking of the subtle sounds of baseball, it's hard to focus in on them when they're blasting "Sweet Caroline" from the speakers. They really don't leave me any other choice than to wait for my cue to go "Bom, Bom, Bom." Good times never felt so good, "So good, so good, so good," eh Summer?
Me? I like to listen to the ball strike the bat, or hear the ball go 'thwap' into a catcher's glove with a pop that makes your head spin around as you say, "Whoa! That...that was a fastball!"
Do me a favor. No, do yourself a favor. Hike up to Portland to catch a Sea Dogs game instead of going to Fenway. Watch those young hungry kids do the simple things that so few of us can do so well. Again, as Crash Davis says in Bull Durham: "It's a simple game. You throw the ball. You hit the ball. You catch the ball. Simple." Ah, but if it is so simple, how come so few of us can do it at all?
Yes, go to Portland, or Pawtucket, and sit in the stands under an August moon; feel the warm breeze against the back of your neck and take a deep breath. Exhale slowly. Time will stand stil and, darn if you hear your heartbeat. Open your eyes, and say, "This is enough. I am enough. The love of my life and my children: they are enough. Life is good." And somewhere around the fourth inning, the shortstop will take a pick from deep in the hole, then pivot in mid-air and fire to first for a bang-bang play that the umpire calls an...calls an...out! Maybe the umpire will get that call wrong and that'll nullify the tieing run that ultimately costs your team the game.
One hundred years from now, your progeny will take their children -- your descendants -- to a baseball game under a moonlit sky with a thousand diamond specks above third base, and say the same thing. Be a part of this mystery, this narrative without end.
I thought you said earlier that it didn't matter.
Or it will pass you by, and you will miss the most important part: its baffling, brilliant mix of hope and stability and peace, mixed with athleticism, grace and power.
Or you may miss the only opportunity to buy your fidgety child some overpriced blue cotton candy that will cost you two weeks' pay for the filling it removes.
"What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how
infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and
admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals..."
Very disingenuous, Summer. You only shared the upbeat part of that soliloquy. Here's what follows:
to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me—
nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
Ya see, the sililoquoy ends on a sour note. Nevermind what a mess the tragic, noble procrastinator made by the end of the play.
Remember - the game itself is its own curative. As Annie Savoy says in Bull Durham: "Walt Whitman once said, 'I see great things in baseball. It's our game, the American game. It will repair our losses and be a blessing to us.' You could look it up."
Baseball, not the Red Sox, will be our blessing and repair our losses.
Enjoy the season.
You earlier suggested that we ignore it. Make up your mind, dude!