…Aaand Pitchers and Catchers
That was the strangest thing we’ve ever seen.
Now, like every year, we turn our attention to what most of us crave.
Sometimes, I say it earlier. I remember after the Jets lost to the Colts a few years back, the second those seconds were up, I said, “…Aaand Pitchers and Catchers.”
Both New York teams were out of it so early, though, it wasn’t like that.
I didn’t say “…Aaand Pitchers and Catchers” until the Giants Post-Game championship coverage was over last year.
This year, without a rooting interest, it certainly arrived at the half-blackout.
The game got wacky, however, and some voodoo was almost in the air.
Alas, the Niners were not meant to hoist the Lombardi Trophy (who, by the way, won an NFL championship with the New York Football Giants as an OC.) Joe Flacco did his Flaccin’ best.
Now, we enter the smallest amount of time we’ve ever had to wait for those early position players and those pitchers who pitch to the catchers to arrive and start playin’ catch.
Every year, I think about Spring Training after we’ve all watched all of that. And the Super Bowl always happens a week before my birthday. The best part of my birthday is that it usually means we’re a week away from Pitchers and Catchers.
This year, though, because of the World Baseball Classic (that Bless-ed thing), the entire baseball schedule has been pushed closer to our grasps.
I would even say February excites me more for the baseball it brings than the birthday it brings since I’ve settled into my Mets fandom. I don’t remember it like that when I was a Yankee fan. Those years happened, however, between the ages of 13-20. I looked forward to getting older (what did I know…) so I looked very forward to my birthday (and presents. Obviously.) Even though Spring Training has always been right after, I don’t recall it having as much of an impact on my emotions regarding the month as it does now.
I don’t think I’ll ever care about getting older every time my birthday comes around because it will always mean I’m that much closer to Metropolitan baseball.
Though that much closer to death…
But even then, maybe I’ll be joinin’ Heaven’s baseball team up there for that eternal hope of Spring.
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