Thursday, March 03, 2005

And So It Begins...

It wasn't pretty.
And it was pretty routine.
And most of the usual suspects were gone by the 4th inning.

But it was baseball, it was the Sox winning, it was my favorite emotional rollercoaster back for another ride, and that's all that matters right now.

There were strikeouts, there were nifty outfield catches, and whattayouknow, there was even a homerun. (In other news, Youk has future competition for the "Fan Favorite Whose Name Sounds Like Boo When Chanted" in tonight's homerun hero, Shawn Wooten.) There were the comforting accents of Jerry Remy, the dulcet tones of Don Orsillo, and the paternal words of Trup' and Joe.

There were new guys to win my heart, in the form of Jay Payton, 4th outfielder extraordinaire, and hustling rookie Adam Stern. The team, the announcers, and even the fans knew that this game, in the grand scheme of things, didn't mean much. And yet there was Adam, trying to steal second. That, to me, is a good omen for the season to come.

There was even a little bit of drama, in new pitcher Denney Tomori giving up 2 9th inning runs, but sacking up and getting the save anyway.

There was the rhythm, the lulls, the highs, all the stuff that makes baseball a wonderful game.

And all of sudden, it's like I never left.


It's also very very good for my sports sanity that baseball is back, since the Patriots are doing their damnedest to make my head explode.

Now, I understand that there is a system , that Belichick knows what he's doing, that Law is aging and injured and expensive, that Patten and Andruzzi went for the money which they deserve for what they did for us. Even somewhere inside, rationally, I understand that despite all that Troy Brown does, all that Troy Brown is and represents, his cap number apparently does not mesh with a balanced all around team.

Doesn't mean that my inner 5-year-old isn't throwing a massive tantrum: "nononononononono! No take my toys away! I want my binky!"

I'll get over it. I got over Pedro with a minimum of irrational anger. Troy Brown, admittedly, will hurt a little more than the others; it might be like what we would have gone through had Varitek left. But I am ( mostly) an adult. I can deal.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go check on Rodney Harrison, who is staying in my coat closet until the financial thingie period is over. He will be well fed, and can use my computer, and can go visit McGinest and Seymour at Kristen's. But he ain't goin' near Gillette or Nantucket till training camp.

I may be mature, but I'm not that mature.