The Soft Opening
When a business just opens its doors, it’s called a soft opening.
When the ribbon is cut, champagne is guzzled and mayors get to play with those gigantic scissors (where do they get those, anyway?), that’s when the real “fun” happens.
Today was baseball’s soft opening.
Bring on tomorrow.
And, as much fun as it is to dwell on teams and players we don’t care about (what’s with this Verlander guy, anyway? 31 first-inning pitches aside, you really could have applied yourself better. I’m gunning for you, Detroit, and I’m gunning for you hard), I am ready for the entrée. I am ready for next week’s Stankee series. I’m ready to see the Mexican Masher. Crawford. Kevin Youkilis. Papelbon. Kevin Youkilis.
But I digress.
I am ready for something.
After a weird year and a crappy month (I watched basketball, people. I made freaking wolf fingers. And where did it get me? But I digress…), I’m ready to see some Joba tears, the K-Youk batter dance and the Papelbon jig.
Because basketball just isn’t making the cut.
So, Texas Rangers.
Tito is pulling J.D. Drew from the opening line up and throwing in Mike Cameron to combat the left handed C.J. Wilson. I, for one, will miss J.D. Drew’s bat- a bat I’ve noticed more and more in the snippets I’ve been able to catch from the pre-season. Yeah, I’m drooling over Crawford too, but he’s 2 for 15. But he’s also the only current Soxie with a home run against Wilson.
Pedroia the Destroia
Gonzalez (aka Masher)
With Lester on the start.
Dear Jon Lester,
Remember that time you beat cancer? So do I. Let’s channel that, k? Because I could use a win. Missed you, babe. You know you’re my one and only.
PS- Don’t show this to Youkie.
An explanation for my extreme tardiness:
So. I was crappy at this last year. Oops. Bear with me. Baseball is back and so am I. Expect more incoherent ramblings than ever before. I’m like Heidi Watney, except less blonde (currently), a little more rambly, and much, much, much hotter.
Remember how I said last year I needed to date a sportsfan? I should have been more specific. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it.
So, when people know you’re a “supah” fan, they start to get annoying.
Saying things like… *gross throat clear/belt grab* “Your life’s about to suck.”
Or leaving post-its on Sweet Caroline (my Sox-ed up car) with a random fact that I knew five years ago.
And leaving stupid notes on your facebook wall (JOHN) about how badass the Stankees look at preseason. The stupid, stupid notes we will leave each other between now and Soxtober, John…
I’m not sure if they’re trying to relate to me, or annoy me or just start a convo, but it really just gets me excited. It has me organizing my Sox hats with an unbridled passion. Unbridled, I tell you.
Do people do this to you? Maybe it’s different because I’m a minority in North Carolina. Maybe up in the big NE you kids already have a solidarity. It’s already assumed that you’re on team Tito. Here I’m a lone wolf. A maverick, if you will. A lone gun in a land of outlaws.
I should really get my own theme song.
At least a sound track.