I couldn’t set my watch by it, but I could pretty much set my calendar by it.
Every year when March rolls around my husband starts talking about making a pilgrimage to Florida to watch spring training.
Personally, I can’t see why a person would go through all the hassle, inconvenience, stress, and annoyance, to say nothing of the expense, to make the arrangements, go through the airport boarding procedure, survive the flight, get the rental car, stay in the hotel just to see a baseball game that makes no difference played by guys who are totally out of shape from an off-season that was way too much fun.
Especially when one could wait another month or two and, by merely hopping on the subway, see a game that counts for something played by guys who are in, well, slightly better shape.
I think it’s a divide we’ll never cross. Not so much a male vs. female, Venus vs. Mars thing. More a true baseball aficionado vs. just along for the ride thing. I guess I’m really just a fair weather fan.
I actually think there may be DNA involved. That scientists may one day discover the part of the human genome that will henceforth be called the “baseball gene.” My husband has it, at least one of my sons has it, but I don’t.
The first time the difference was apparent was when we were watching a game that was, you know, tied in the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, two outs. And hubby says to me that every ball player on the bench was wishing more than anything else that it was his turn at bat so he could hit one out of the ballpark and win the game.
In that situation, I can think of a few things I’d rather be doing . Like
- Having dinner at the Inn at Little Washington (a super classy restaurant.)
- Exploring the Great Wall of China.
- Watching one of my sons receive the Nobel Peace Prize.
I would even include the following on my list of places I’d prefer to be:
- Eating a pizza with anchovies.
- Sweating out an IRS tax audit.
- Undergoing a colonoscopy.
Anyway, don’t expect to see me in Florida this year.