It’s only the first Monday in January and my mind is already racing ahead until February 19 when pitchers and catchers report to spring training. It almost feels like spring is in the air. Well except that it is raining like crazy, the days are still way shorter than the nights, and temperatures are dipping down to the point that I am having to cover my wife’s plants with every Diamondbacks beach towel I have ever bought to protect them from frost (the plants not the towels or my wife).
But still, spring is coming and before long I’ll be sitting in the sun wishing it was the seventh inning at Salt River Fields so the shade would cover our section and give us a little reprieve from the warm Arizona sun. The countdown has officially begun at our house and you can almost feel the excitement. Ok that last part may be a stretch; I feel the excitement while everyone else is just trying to stay warm and take down what remaining Christmas decorations are still strung around the house.
The mere mention of Spring Training results in my wife giving me the stink eye since I haven’t managed to find enough time since the final out last October to get to the Honey-Do list that I promised I would get done before baseball started again. So I have had to become adept at the subtle art of slow anticipation. Inside I am jumping around singing my happy song while visions of dancing condiments and large feline mascots prance around on lush green grass while on the outside I attempt to be content with the thoughts of winter hibernation and painting the bathroom in a color that is not Sedona Red, Sonoran Sand, Black, or Teal accents.
That apathetic exterior may just have worked had it not been for that dog or those pesky mystery-solving kids. Wait scratch that last sentence. I’ve been watching too many Scooby-Do episodes, which I blame on Major League Baseball since they do not show Winter Ball on the MLB Network.
No the blame is squarely on the staff at Salt River Fields. I was all cool and calm until that email arrived in my in-box this morning inviting me to the annual Spring Season Ticket Pick-up Party being held on January 16th at Salt River Fields. You read that and how can you help but break into your happy dance and start babbling on like you are Orlando Hudson?
I immediately sent my RSVP for myself plus one. The plus one doesn’t know she’s going to a party and nobody better tell her either. It will be a surprise. I’ll tell her we are going to a fabric store to look at a new shipment of thread or something. Then WHAM! We will arrive at Salt River Fields to collect our season tickets and maybe get a ballpark hot dog. I can almost see her face now. She is going to be so surprised. This may make up for that misstep last Christmas where I misunderstood her hints and bought her a stepladder and a vacuum instead of that necklace she wanted.