Baseball

There was snow on the ground Monday morning, but by Tuesday we've got perfect baseball weather. Ya gotta love living in Colorado!

But seriously, Mother Nature, we need to be swimming in the pond soon. It's definitely time to bring out the sun and put some of that massive space-borne fusion explosion mojo to useful work down here on the third rock. We need to crank up that water temp, and soon.

Anyway, because of the chilly wind on Saturday, Tanner and I chose to play racquetball instead of risking frostbite on the tennis court. I was sore and tired from the morning's yoga class, but not to the point where I felt I couldn't crush the youngster's self-esteem with my usual cruel dominance on the court. And for the first two games, this proved to be true. He rolled over like a fainting goat.

Yes, I know that a father is supposed to love and support and nurture his kid, and that some folks would consider me evil for continually thrashing the boy in sports. But remember -- everything I know about parenting comes from 1960s Top 40 Radio:


But in our third game, he was holding his own and I was only ahead by a couple of points. I was running backwards to get in position for a kill shot, and somehow, my foot got stuck on the floor. My body's weight rolled over the ankle and I took a spill. I hit the ground hard! From the size of the SPLAT sound, Tanner thought I had broken every bone in my body, but I was more worried about the torque that my ankle had taken. After a moment of lying there and doing a quick physical inventory, though, I was able to stand up, walk it off, and finish the game.

The poor kid. Not only did he have to watch his old man take a fall that would've killed William Conrad, but then he had to suffer the humiliation of not scoring another point, despite my tender ankle, sore shoulder, and bruised hip.

Hey, maybe he'll write a song about it someday and make a lot of money from it! You never know.

Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that it's baseball season, and we should all be happy about that. My brother has an extra ticket for the Rockies game, and Ubaldo is pitching, so I'm totally psyched (despite my bruised hip and sore ankle). And everybody seems to be getting into it:

I was watching the construction workers out my office window the other day and noticed a couple of guys who were digging a hole next to a new transformer they were installing. I'm not sure what they were doing with shovels, since the backhoe was chewing up the turf with grand efficiency, but they were down in the pit working as if they were closing in on buried treasure. Even treasure, though, cannot keep you focused on digging when it's baseball weather; at one point, they took a break and stepped several paces away from each other. One dude picked up a dirt clod and lobbed it at the other fellow, who swung at it with his shovel. Goodbye Mr. Spalding! (Or actually, it was more like "Dude, you got dirt in my eye!"...but the shovel-swinger made solid contact, that's for sure.)

Reminded me of swatting pine cones with a handy branch during a hike in the woods, or turning pebbles into fungos with two-by-fours...when you feel it in the air like this, any sort of wood and semi-round object will provide motivation for your inner Mickey Mantle. Anyway, I'm excited to see my first Rockies game of the season. I'll let you know how it goes.

In the meantime, pick up a stick or something and swat a few rocks or wiffle balls or anything else that's handy. Better yet, get a real bat and ball and head out to the park. Whatever you do, though, enjoy the spring weather, and have a great day!