It's the emptiest week of the year, in my book, the [half]Week With No Baseball. Okay, fine, there's the Home Run Derby tonight (booooooring! And not baseball, just a hitting clinic) and the All-Star game tomorrow night. (How, exactly, is a pickup game inherently designed to favor American-League team construction supposed to determine the best of baseball? Lame.)
It's the middle of summer but I'm forced to acknowledge that winter is ahead, those months from November to February that are devoid of baseball. (Spring training games, paradoxically, are baseball. They are about hope. Alternately, in a world with interleague play, what's the difference?) I've considered buying CDs of
Pat and Ron's best calls and more of Pat Hughes' baseball books, which include a CD of great calls and historic moments. Back in NewBurb, I'd occasionally check out DVDs of classic games. That seems a little extreme for a baseball hiatus that ends on Thursday.
I'll make it, I know, with renewed vim and vigor for my favorite sport. (And I'll need it, what with being a Cubs fan and this year.) Absence, heart, all that. But it's a cloudy night, as cool as they get in July, and it would be so nice to escape into a game.