Maz, The Mick, And Me

IT IS APPROXIMATELY 4 ½ MONTHS BEFORE BASEBALL SEASON BEGINS AGAIN. Until then the skies will be overcast, the winds will blow cold and nothing in the Universe will be quite right.

But, don’t think that I miss it all that much.

There will be attempts to present other activities as Sports. Football will whimper to a close around the end of January with a massive Bail Bond hearing called the Super Bowl. That’s OK by me. It’s a good day to go to the movies. Maybe there will be a new film about Baseball. If not, then after a nap and popcorn I can put on the DVD of the 2014 World Series.

But, please don’t think I miss Baseball all that much.

After football goes into rehab and detox we can begin to plan our days in sunny Arizona. Spring training will start in early February and birds will begin to chirp again in anticipation. Children will look out of their classroom windows knowing that, underneath the layer of snow, there is a diamond waiting to be rediscovered. I will sigh with them.

But, don’t think I miss it all that much.

Even though there may be snow on the ground a warm breeze will be coming up from Florida. The “Baseball Winter Meetings” will glow with the comforting heat from the hot stove of wheeling and dealing, trades and talk of trades. Who will retire? Where will the next “Phenom” come from? Rosters will change as deals are consummated. I will devour each Tweet for a peek inside the tent.

But, don’t think I’m missing it all that much.

I know that in January there will be some sort of Inauguration in Washington, DC. I don’t think it has anything to do with the Nationals. Some people think it must be important because it will be on TV. I say that if you want an important broadcast just turn out the lights, turn on your radio, and listen to the play-by-play, sitting in the dark. It will transport you through the ether as you paint a thousand pictures in your mind.

Even a Spring Training game, with some players you’ve never heard of before and never will again, will warm you and make you hunger for a dog and a beer. It is a game. It is a business. It is a slice of my soul with a heaping portion of my heart.

For a man who never played the game beyond the Sandlot the Baseball Season is a 12 month experience. I always had a glove and a bat growing up. I wasn’t very good with either of them, but I felt like I was Stan Musial and Bill Mazeroski – with just a dash of The Mick when I got ahold of one.

During those cold months when there was snow on the field I would saddle soap my glove and put tape on my bat to help it last for one more year. The house became the Dugout and until Spring we were all just between innings.

Now I don’t have a glove or a bat – and that’s OK. They are better in the hands of a ten year old.

I have my memories of games and seasons past and the anticipation of those yet to be played.

But, please don’t think I miss Baseball too much. I think that I miss it just right.

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