Monday, February 23, 2009

Spring Training is Just a Dream

To anyone living in the northern part of this great country, where winter still holds an iron grip, Spring Training is but a dream. It is no more real than watching Phil "Man Boobs" Mickelson luck out over Steve Stricker (thanks to Stricker's yak on the last hole) on green grass and in shirt sleeves.

We just had ten inches of snow on Wednesday. Sixteen more inches of the stuff is expected tonight and tomorrow. The snow is piled up in the yard up to the bottom branches of the trees and the constant wind-blown snow across the landscape, like millions of writhing snakes, completes the picture of the frozen tundra that is the Fan's reality.

One thing the Fan is absolutely sure of: Al Gore has never been to northern Maine. Because if he had made the trip here, he never would have made that documentary. All things spring and green and warm seem a million miles away.

Is it any wonder that the Fan has always longed to make a pilgrimage to Florida this time of year to see this annual rite of spring? It's not about the intimate setting of seeing MLB players closer up than you can see them at their usual home parks. It's about being some place warm in February and March and not here. Well, once upon a time it was the desire to see Spring Training and watch the newest rookies and see first hand what veterans look poised to have a big year. But now, when the Fan has spent a half century of frigid winters and nights that begin at 4:00 P.M., it's only about being warm and wearing shorts and sandals.

The Fan's Mom doesn't get it. Making the weekly Sunday call, she told the Fan that she had to get a blanket out this week because she was cold. Mom lives in North Palm Beach, Florida. What is it, Mom? About 72 or something? Such a pity that.

There are some good things about living in a place like this. For most of the year, it's way too cold for crooks to be lurking around waiting for an opening to rob you. It's too cold for lots of people to want to live here, leading to a less congested lifestyle. It's cold enough to see Moose on a regular basis and those lovable but ugly and yet graceful creatures are one of the coolest sights on earth (unless you hit one with your car).

The Fan used to snowshoe. What's that? You know. You've seen them in Bugs Bunny cartoons. Those tennis racket thingys you wear on you feet? Yeah, them. The Fan used to enjoy making fresh tracks through the wilderness. But two creaky knees make that too painful to think about. Or maybe the Fan just got lazy along the way. Hard to say which is more the reality. Probably the latter.

Anyway, the thought of Spring Training, while exciting because it means that real baseball will soon be on the way, also seems like a cruel joke. Yes, some of you are starting to get an inkling of spring. Some of you will soon see lilies and other wonderful signs of life. But us poor slobs in the frozen tundra have nothing to look forward to but another month an a half of hard winter. Egads, that's depressing.

If the Fan liked fishing (besides the love of eating fish), he could always do what hundreds of red necks around here do and go ice fishing. But the thought of sitting in a small homemade shack on the ice in the middle of a lake, watching a stick and a string leading down through a ten inch hole in the ice, doesn't seem like a whole lot of fun. But most of the folks that do that around here just use it as an excuse to chug a six pack and forget all about Obama's stimulus package that seems as remote to us as spring does. Plus, the builder of the Fan's house died in one of those shacks when it caught fire while he was passed out on the lake. Yup, true story.

So, the Fan will continue to read all the favorite baseball sites and see all those stories about young men playing the great game of baseball on green grass and with short sleeves. All the while, the Fan will sigh and grumble about another darn snowstorm and having to take the dog out when bitter winds are whipping across his pink cheeks.

{{grrrr}} Spring Training. Uh huh. Sure.

Speaking of young men, here is a quiz: Who was the youngest player in the majors last year? If you guessed Clayton Kershaw of the Dodgers, you win the Manny Batting Helmet Award. Eww! Kershaw was born in 1988. It won't be long before the first player born in the 1990s arrives on the scene. Now isn't THAT depressing!? The last player that was the Fan's age in the majors was Paul Molitor and he retired ten years ago.

Okay. Whine over. Have a good Spring Training day.

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