Dear Baseball,
I’ve been seeing you for a while now, and I think it’s time to talk about our relationship. Remember how my dad introduced us when I was younger? I didn’t start to get to know you until 2003, though, and of course you were all over the place around Boston in 2004. After the World Series that year, my Catholic elementary school gave us a dress-down day if we wore our Sox gear. Thanks for that.
It used to be that you were just a part of our family gatherings, but that changed once I went to college. I didn’t think of you that first year, to be honest (sorry), but by October of my sophomore year I really missed you. Despite the end of our 2011 season being a little soul-crushing, it felt good to get back in touch. Trying to follow games during equally soul-crushing CS50 office-hours reminded me of being a kid again, sneakily listening to games on my radio, turned down low, after my parents sent me to bed in the middle of the fifth inning.
This year has been intense for us. I went to our first Opening Day game and lost touch while I was in Italy this summer, but now you and I are back in a big way. This hurts to say and it may hurt to hear, but you’re causing some problems for me. You can’t just steal away twelve hours of my week during prime study time—8PM to midnight—and expect it to be fine. I’m not doing my reading, I’m falling behind on my thesis, and I swear much more profusely now. Even when I have prior commitments, I’m glued to my phone the whole time waiting for news from you. I can’t keep going on like this. You’re all my friends hear about. You’re what I look forward to seeing. You’re bringing my Bostonian accent back.
I’ve tried blocking you out. Did you know that I didn’t even watch you last night? It was petty, I know, but I was just trying to do some reading and I knew that as soon as I heard what was happening in your world I’d get sucked in until one in the morning.
I know people think you’re boring and outdated. They compare you with football and say you come up short because you’re less fit and slower-paced. Okay, sure, the first few hours we spend together can get a little dull, but that’s only because you understand that it’s okay to delay gratification and save the fun for the 7th. You have brains and brawn, more history, better stories, and fewer concussions. “Exciting” doesn’t always mean guys and tights constantly running up and down a field; real excitement is spontaneous—the constant anticipation of sitting on the edge of your seat waiting for the night to completely change in a split second. You have a way of bringing all kinds of people together that no other sport does.
Are you cramping my style right now? Sure, a little bit. But I know that taking some space away from you won’t help, and soon enough you’ll be gone again. That’s why I’m going to embrace your crazy for the next few days—my thesis will still be there. Regardless of how our fall fling ends, I know you’ll come back to me in April, and I’ll be waiting.
HCXO,
A third generation Sox fan