Manhattan Psychiatric Center – Randalls Island, NY – January 12th, today is just about the lowest point in the year. It is post-holidays and pre baseball… For those of us that regard the time between the World Series and spring training as “the great nothing,” the end is in sight.
Early yesterday morning in my office’s midweek staff meeting I had a startlingly wonderful revelation thanks to a good friend of mine who is also a baseball nut. It is only 35 days until pitchers and catchers report! Somewhere over Florida and Arizona a star is shining bright leading the boys of summer to grace the pinstripes and stirrups of our world for another glorious season.
No more will the soap opera we call the NFL command our attention. No more will an anticlimactic college sports scene ruin our Saturdays, Tuesdays, Thursday’s and any other day Lee Corso or Dick Vitale are put on the air. No more will I be subjected to abject criticism because I am the only Rams fan in New York City or St. Louis for that matter… No more will I be pulling my hair out because my entire fantasy team is in prison. No more NBC broadcasts wasted on figure skating and skiing! No more hockey cures cancer t-shirts. That simply isn’t true! Everyone knows that Chuck Norris cures cancer! No more dancing with not so famous anymore stars! Have I said enough?
Soon, Sundays will be spent binge drinking at CitiField, as opposed to binge drinking alone… in my apartment…because none of my friends have Giants or Jets tickets. Soon, a Tuesday can be an impromptu game day. Soon, the sweet sounds of Mike Shannon will rule the airwaves with crude absurdities like; “Man Folks, this moon in Pittsburgh really is beautiful. I wish you could see this moon back in St. Louis.” Soon, I will even be hearing the sweet sounds of the crack of my own bat and the crack of Short Matt’s back breaking trying to throw for the first time in six months as the weekend warrior Shasky’s return to the diamond. Until then I guess I will have to settle for his sultry words.
Soon, all will be right with the world.
Come February 18th, everyone is 0-0. The Orioles are tied for first and the Red Sox and Braves can forget their collapses because it’s a fresh start. Even the Cubs have a shot. Well, let’s not go that far.
Come February 18th, we will be free to speculate who juiced too much in the off season. Come February 18th, we can get our first look at a Red Sox Organization under new management. Come February 18th, we will get to see which high-schooler will be playing for the Mets.
Obviously, without baseball I am losing my mind and I’m attributing this rant to a bad bad case of Baseball Fever. Baseball Fever is closely related to Cabin Fever, but more directly related to “…a lack of beer in my hand disease.” This is the kind of crazy word vomit that happens when it’s Thursday and there isn’t a baseball game to go to, watch, or play in.
I will leave you with this. I am the only one without a handle and that is going to change. From now on you will get a bi-weekly education from Ram Rules.
Enjoy the self deprecating video.
Different Matt, tomorrow.