I do not know why Tim Wakefield picks the damndest times to give up four hits and three runs in the first inning. Like the first time we play the Yankees for the season. Yes, yes, it's March 12 and all, but still, it was an anticlimactic first inning to say the least. And March 12 or no March 12, it still worries me a little when it comes from Wakefield...it's not like he needs weeks of training to pump up the speed on his blazing fastball.
And it's a pride thing, ok? I mean, we had half of Japan at this game, or so it seemed--the rivalry's gone global, and added another ring to the circus. As we've learned over the last few years, it just keeps getting more and more ridiculous.
Meanwhile, let me just say that, as Red put it, "The season hasn't even started yet, and my queerness for RemDawg has officially left Earth's orbit." Although, I'm not...so it's not...whatever, you get the idea.
My award for tonight's Most Surreal Rem-Dawg Moment was for the gratuitous non-sequitur he achieved shortly after beginning a rant about how the gyroball is just a change-up, a CHANGE-UP, A CHANGE-UP GODDAMNIT, WILL NOBODY LISTEN?!? And then suddenly, before anyone even knew what hit them, he was working in a gratuitous reference, completely out of nowhere, to the movie Flubber. "You ever seen that movie, 'Flubba'?" Is how he put it. "You know how that stuff, when you throw it, it bounces and moves around all over the place? Well it's not like that, okay, it's a change-up. He throws a change-up, people.
You ever seen that movie Flubba? No, but now I just might.
It should also be noted that when Manny committed his first laziness-error of the season (like a lie of omission, a laziness-error is not so much an error per se as a play allowed to become worse due to lack of effort), I thought heart-warmingly of my father, and called him soon afterward to see if he was having his inaugural Manny-related seizure of the season, but it turned out he was not home. And so some things, maddeningly, will still have to wait: Matsuzaka vs. Matsui, the first brawl of the season (well, with the Yankees, that is), and the first time my father turns red in the face over Manny Ramirez.
At times during the game Rem-Dawg and Orsillo managed to get in their usual marketing pitches for NESN, including an ad for Walk-Off Sox, a condensed classic game as NESN is wont to show from time to time, especially in the off-season. The next Walk-Off Sox will be a rebroadcast of the Patriot's Day game where Mark Loretta hit the first walkoff home run of his career against the Mariners. Hearing Remy and Orsillo talk about it (and seeing them show a clip) first made me remember that day, and then I found myself remeniscing about the time Loretta hit a walk-off single when I was at the ballpark last year, and then without warning I was in full-on nostalgia / anticipation mode. It seemed like I could just taste Fenway for a moment, so much so that it was a little painful to remember, after a few minutes, that I am actually in a small, dark apartment, that today is only Monday, that once again I have to go and work for a living tomorrow, and that I still need to get my taxes done. Ugh.
Time is a strange concept for me right now. Random things are starting to add up, making me look around and wonder how it got to be March, 2007 already--My computer needs an upgrade, for example. Didn't I just have a new one built? Uh, yeah, three years ago. My family's cat been diagnosed with terminal cancer, kind of a big deal to me because this is the cat of my childhood, and my family's had her since I was nine. Though abstractly I knew she wouldn't be around forever, or even much longer given her age, I find myself surprised to hear she's not long for the world. Already? Time to say goodbye, already? I'm sure everyone has these moments, whether it's looking around and wondering how it got to be 3:30 when a deadline's looming or suddenly realizing that a high school reunion with a truly frightening number in front of it is only just around the corner. How did it get to be now so soon?
And yet at the same time, I am more impatient for summer this year than most. You may glance up at 3:30 on Monday afternoon and wonder where your time went, but that doesn't also mean you're not already wondering if it's Friday yet. That's how I feel looking forward to this summer.
Baseball-wise, it seems unbelievable to me that the Red Sox' championship was now two full seasons ago. It's dizzying to contemplate just how few of the 25 are left on this year's squad...this spring training has had its share of bitter little surprises for my sentimental side, like the fact that JD Drew is wearing No. 7 in right field. Bill Mueller, so fresh in my memory hitting that earth-shattering single up the middle to score Dave Roberts from second, isn't even playing baseball anymore. Doug Mientkiewicz is on first base...for the Yankees.
But at the same time, it feels as though March is dragging. Enough of this painstaking preparation in the languid humidity of Florida. Right now I want Fenway Park on a summer night, one of these guys I'm still waiting for Remy to identify here on March 12 at the plate, by midway through the season a familiar sight up there, kicking the dirt in his signature way.
Is it just me, or is the anticipation for this season more intense than over the last few years? Am I just having a particularly spazzy time with this spring training, or is everybody else out there just as twitterpated? I'm curious to know.