The Home Stretch
The home stretch is upon us, with just over a month of baseball left to go. The dog days have passed/were never here (And Vick’s out of jail. Coincidence?), and it’s hurricane season on the East Coast. Last week Hurricane Bill ruined the watery dreams of those on the Jersey Shore, throwing up a red flag to all those who sought to end the water. Go in above your knee, and be prepared for a sharp whistle and an arm-flailing admonishment from the adolescent teenage lifeguarding crew. Push it, and they’ll come sprinting down to the water’s edge with a floaty thing in their hand and repeat the whole thing up close. Better to play football on the beach than risk such abject humiliation.
But wait! Attempt to do so, and be approached by a member of the local police department — identical to the lifeguards, but for their three extra years and the extra sense of importance — and shirt — they wear on their shoulders. He will ask for your beach passes, and when you produce them, tell you that you’re not usually allowed to play football on “days like this,” but it’s “okay” as long as you don’t tackle. You refrain from asking what exactly is so “this” about this day, happy in the result that your football game will continue as long as you have the energy. Alas, it is not long.
This weekend, back home, the situation repeats itself. The remnants of another hurricane bear down on the city. There will be rain, and preseason football. And there like an old friend: baseball.
You’ll admit: you haven’t paid much attention. The Red Sox have struggled, but not too much to be knocked off the scene. You look at the standings and there are some surprises. Not so much in the division leads, but for someone like the Nationals, who are 14-11 this month and still have the worst record in baseball. The standings are, on the whole, uninteresting. You never used to feel that way, and then you realize why: you don’t look at them every day. In the newspaper heyday, they’d be there, every day, right in front of you. Watching the numbers move was like following the plot of a book. Now, you focus on one character, and trying to jump into the standings — or care — is like jumping onto page 370 and expecting to know what the hell is going on.
It’s not easy.
Still, if you’re ever going to make the effort, the time is now. But the words of Peggy Olson echo: “One day, you’re there and there’s less of you, and you wonder where that part went. If it’s living somewhere outside of you. And you keep thinking… maybe you’ll get it back. And then you realize — it’s just gone.”
And then you realize.
See you Monday.
