I Feel Like Cinderella

While many would argue that a sure sign of spring is Groundhog Day, I have found a more reliable indicator. You can always tell Spring Training is upon us when teams announce who they will be inviting to Spring Training. Today the Arizona Diamondbacks released their invitee list to Spring Training for non-roster players. This is both an exciting and frustrating time for me each year. It is exciting because it means I have survived yet another long off-season and in just a few short days pitchers and catchers will begin to arrive in Tucson to start preparations for another baseball season. It is frustrating because after patiently waiting by my mailbox and pestering my mailman to the point where he is now talking about a career change, I did not get an invitation. As I walked back to the house dejected after another day without a formal invitation, I began to realize I could be Cinderella. I’m not talking about the ending of that story when Cinderella gets the prince and the whole “happily ever after” part. No I am talking about Cinderella – The Early Years.

You remember how the story begins? Cinderella is living with the mean old step mother and has two butt-ugly step sisters who boss her around and make her do all the crap jobs around the house. Cinderella has to clean out the fireplace, scrub the floors, do the dishes, do the laundry, and basically do everything that the mean old step mother wants without any hope of being rewarded.

Now before I go any farther I must put in a personal disclaimer that all characters within this blog entry are completely fictional and in no way is an inference to any person currently living. So before any of you start coming to the conclusion that the part of the mean old step mother is actually a metaphor for Trina let me assure you that is not the case. I did not marry my mom nor do I even want to entertain that thought. I have enough issues in my life without dealing with the kind of therapy I would need if we went down that path.

Anyway so Cinderella is basically getting the shaft and starts to feel a little sorry for herself. About this time she starts to hallucinate about singing mice that can’t pronounce her name but want to help by making her a cool dress. The butt-ugly step sisters are getting all dolled up to attend the prince’s ball (which I hope is better than Prince’s halftime show) where they plan to land themselves a rich husband. Obviously the butt-ugly step sisters are in need of some serious therapy of their own if they are delusional enough to think that any rich single guy on the planet would ever go for the ugly chick. That may sound sexist but that is not the intent. I am sure deep down these two girls are very warm and loving and that outward appearances do not show their inner beauty. But let’s be real here, they are gold diggers out to make a name for themselves by tagging the rich guy. So who’s really the bad person here, is it the rich guy only looking at the pretty girls or the money-loving ugly girls only looking to get hooked up with a sugar daddy?

Ok, I may have gotten slightly sidetracked here. The point was that Cinderella had worked hard and done everything that was asked of her. Granted she may not have been fully recovered from shoulder surgery but being left-handed she should at least have gotten an invitation to the ball. After all, she could not have been any worse than Russ Ortiz could she? But no Cinderella didn’t get an invitation. Instead butt-ugly girls ripped up her pretty handmade mouse dress leaving her in shambles while they headed off to the Tucson ball. It’s not right I tell you. Cinderella was the Prince’s biggest fan (the one in the castle not the little creepy one who sings although he can’t be completely creepy since he did sing about the purple reign). If anyone deserved to go to the ball and hang out with the other players it was her right? I mean wasn’t she there when the Prince first came into the league? Didn’t she suffer through the inaugural ball attending every game regardless of how bad the Prince’s team played? Did she not have to endure the Richie Sexon debacle and the subsequent 111 loss season? That alone should be justification enough to get a trip to the ball. But Cinderella was not rewarded. Instead she was left crying in the garden with what was left of her mouse dress hoping that someday the Prince would recognize his mistake and send her an invitation to Spring Training.

As I recounted the tale of Cinderella to my kids at bedtime I could see that the story troubled them just as much as it did me. I never realized how depressing fairy tales were until I started reading them this off-season. I seriously need to go to a baseball game.

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