I’ve always been a pretty loving guy. When I get attached to something/someone, I’m passionate and loyal. I’ve always prided myself on being absolutely dedicated to the things I love without fail. But life has a way of throwing serious monkey wrenches into the best laid plans. I got married five years ago and MJ was the center of my universe. Three years ago Will was born, and I learned quickly that there’s a whole new level of love you can feel you never even knew existed. Throw in a dog, friends, family members, etc and that’s a lot of people and areas that require attention.
Something had to give. And unfortunately, a very trusted and beloved friend of mine had to suffer the consequences.
I’m sorry Boston Red Sox.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a huge Sox fan. But before I was married with children, I was a Sox lunatic. I watched every game, went to probably a dozen games at Fenway every summer and lived and died with every pitch. Especially in the playoffs. I’d hungrily devour the abundance of Sox media coverage the morning after each game, and even went to the opposing team’s newspaper sites to look at their take.
At my most frenzied I’d do things like examine YouTube videos of Pedro Martinez to compare the mechanics of his delivery and his arm slot from his dominant stretch from 1998-2000. During my more geeky moments I’d even score the game by hand.
You just can’t do that when you’re a parent. Well, I guess you can but you’d be ignoring the shit out of your kid. I found myself watching parts of the game at first instead of the whole thing. Then I’d just catch the end after Will went to bed. As Will got older he wanted to watch his shows on TV, so I’d lose you to The Wiggles or Mickey Mouse. Pretty soon I was never spending any time with you in person, opting to check my cell phone for scores periodically.
Why can’t you be more like football and the Patriots. It’s so much easier because it’s every Sunday (or sometimes Monday) and you can justify to your wife setting aside three hours a week to watch the games.
But baseball is just about every day. For six months. Even longer if your team makes the playoffs.
The Red Sox play their season opener in Arlington today against the Rangers. For the first time in perhaps my entire life, I didn’t even catch a preseason game because I’ve been so busy. And this is an exciting season with the likes of Carl Crawford and Adrian Gonzalez joining the team, in addition to Big Papi, Kevin Youkilis, Dustin Pedroia, Jacoby Ellsbury and a possibly preternatural pitching rotation of Jon Lester, Josh Beckett, Clay Buchholz, John Lackey and Dice-K.
Normally my baseball boner would’ve been in full effect since December. But I’m a husband. I’m a father. It literally pains me to say this but I have more important things to do. Which on one hand makes me feel like a total fan failure. After all, I’ve been in love with the Red Sox far longer than I’ve known my wife or son. We spent so much time together, yet over the last few years we’ve been slowly growing apart. I haven’t wanted to admit it the harsh truth, but it’s true.
So I just want to say good luck today Red Sox. I know I’ve taken this day off from work entirely in the past to devote myself to opening day, but not this year. I’m really going to try to see you play today. At least a few innings. I just have to, you know, finish up work and then pick Will up from daycare. And make him dinner. Then clean the house because his birthday party is tomorrow.
But I really think I can tune in for an inning or two. Maybe. Or at least the highlights on SportsCenter.
Oh God…how did it come to this??