According to Major League Baseball’s schedule, pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training in just nine days.
No way. This is impossible to envision. Young men in short-sleeve shirts, fielding grounders? Sorry, bud – that’s beyond my ken. Not in this winter of 2011, when everyone from Maine to Mexico is feeling the wrath of Mother Nature. Video from Spring Training seems about as plausible as live footage from Oz.
In much of America and Europe, the onslaught of snow and ice this winter has been as relentless and frightening as the slew of 90-degree days were this past summer. Scientists tell us that climate change brings with it extremes, and so here we are, with several feet of snow blanketing New England and several feet of rain falling in Australia.
Here in Central Jersey, there’s usually no snowstorm that can stand in the way of a good day’s shopping. But even in the malls, you see the haggard looks and hear the groans of frustration. Outside, the snow-plowed parking lots leave mountains of the white stuff. It’s like the Alps, but with Applebee’s.
In the midst of an all-out ice storm Wednesday morning, Punxsutawney Phil had the effrontery to forecast an early spring for us all as he waddled out of his little hole in Pennsylvania. Thanks for the pick-me-up, little guy, but you don’t get the pleasure of my attention this year. You can’t waddle out of a cozy little hibernation hole and tell me I won’t be shoveling for long, while you and your little groundhog friends kick back and cuddle where the snow don’t fall.
We try to follow incredibly important news stories from Egypt, Tunisia and Washington, yet find ourselves constantly clicking over to The Weather Channel, where we find Jim Cantore howling with shock over the sound of thunder in the midst of a Chicago blizzard. Revolutions in the Middle East are world-changers, but it can be hard to focus on that when I’ve got a constant “Winter Storm Warning” box at the top of my weather.com page. And when I see a story in The New York Times explaining that this is the second consecutive mild winter up at the Arctic Circle, I am rendered speechless and feel the urge to re-watch An Inconvenient Truth.
Pleasant diversions come at us throughout February – Super Bowl Sunday, Valentine’s Day, President’s Day Weekend, the Grammys, the Oscars. We grab hold of these and search for a way to forget about the shovels and rock salt. We rent a movie, stir up some hot chocolate, hop on the treadmill. But then we look out the window again, and the frosted flakes are falling once more.
So yes, February 14th is the first day that teams require pitchers and catchers to report to Florida and Arizona for their first Spring Training workouts. Any ballplayer with fire in his belly has been getting his body ready for several weeks now, but next week the athletes start gathering in the same facility with their old and new teammates. Over in Tampa, the Yankees will start their “spring” without Andy Pettitte, the lefty legend who chose to retire Friday rather than leave his family for another long season. After 240 wins, it’s been a terrific career for Andy. He leaves his team with class and dignity.
I can recall a summer’s day, 13 years ago, when I sat with my brother in the old Yankee Stadium and watched Pettitte strand Florida Marlins baserunners all over the basepaths en route to another crafty victory. It was vintage Pettitte – double-play grounders, clutch strikeouts, fist pumps. As I sat in my shorts and T-shirt and cheered Andy on, all seemed right with the world.
Now, as Andy Pettitte retires, he heads back home to Texas – typically a warm state year-round, yet one that has experienced bitter cold and severe storms this winter. As the Super Bowl is played in Cowboys Stadium tomorrow, we’ll find folks bundling up for the game just a few hundred miles north of Mexico. We’ll shake our heads in disbelief.
Up here in Jersey, we’ll remember Andy Pettitte fondly, and we’ll tune into the big game tomorrow as well. But as much as I’d like to read a reflection on the Yankee pitcher’s career or watch a preview of the Super Bowl, I have a sinking feeling that I’ll be checking in with Jim Cantore and those ceaseless storm warnings. Andy Pettitte always knew how to gut it out through those tough spots; those of us living through this bewildering winter know deep down that we must do the same.
Showing posts with label Spring Training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spring Training. Show all posts
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Monday, March 8, 2010
New Life
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, and the mercury had finally inched above 50 degrees. We were driving along the highway, and Katie had a question.
“Daddy,” she asked, “is this your first life?”
“Umm,” I stammered, attempting to focus on the road while also trying to answer the deepest question a child of mine has ever asked me. “As far as I know, yes. What has you thinking about this, Katie?”
I wondered if a whiff of the spring-like air had Katie thinking about reincarnation. In fact, she said she’d been thinking about her great-grandfather, who passed away a few years ago. She was wondering if his spirit was still in heaven or if, instead, it had settled inside a dog. My grandfather had loved the golden retriever we’d had for many years, and the two often seemed to be connected by forces much stronger than a leash.
Katie’s memories of the people and animals no longer with her speak volumes about her sensitivity, as well as to her understanding of the autumns in our lives. Her hope for rebirth speaks to our universal connection with this season of green that awaits us, awakening just around the corner.
In Florida and Arizona, they’ve been thinking spring for weeks already. The ballplayers call it “Spring Training,” and they’re already playing games against each other. There are young players hustling to impress their managers, older players trying to make one last comeback, and unfortunate players whose early-season injuries have them wondering just how fruitful their springs will actually be.
Fans travel from around the block and around the globe to watch these baseball players up close in Spring Training. They watch the players stretch, long-toss, practice grounders and take batting practice. Players sign autographs, and rest easy with the knowledge that every team, now and for the rest of the month, is tied for first place.
New beginnings. A fresh start. In so many ways, the seasons of life are all about this. We seek the patience to endure the harsh winters of life, the fortitude to gather up our strength for the long walk home, and the present-mindedness to savor the moments of grace that bloom before us.
A cardinal sits on a barren tree, a harbinger of things to come. A final patch of snow melts into the grass, now wet with moisture and promise. A dog dashes around the yard, sniffing all the fresh smells this sleepy ground holds. A veteran pitcher tosses two innings in Tampa to work on his off-speed stuff. An outfielder shags fly balls and does some jogging in the outfield.
I think it’s my first life, Katie. But the winter is long, and your question is fitting. As for your great-grandpa, I think he’s in all of us, to an extent. Kind of like a spring breeze.
“Daddy,” she asked, “is this your first life?”
“Umm,” I stammered, attempting to focus on the road while also trying to answer the deepest question a child of mine has ever asked me. “As far as I know, yes. What has you thinking about this, Katie?”
I wondered if a whiff of the spring-like air had Katie thinking about reincarnation. In fact, she said she’d been thinking about her great-grandfather, who passed away a few years ago. She was wondering if his spirit was still in heaven or if, instead, it had settled inside a dog. My grandfather had loved the golden retriever we’d had for many years, and the two often seemed to be connected by forces much stronger than a leash.
Katie’s memories of the people and animals no longer with her speak volumes about her sensitivity, as well as to her understanding of the autumns in our lives. Her hope for rebirth speaks to our universal connection with this season of green that awaits us, awakening just around the corner.
In Florida and Arizona, they’ve been thinking spring for weeks already. The ballplayers call it “Spring Training,” and they’re already playing games against each other. There are young players hustling to impress their managers, older players trying to make one last comeback, and unfortunate players whose early-season injuries have them wondering just how fruitful their springs will actually be.
Fans travel from around the block and around the globe to watch these baseball players up close in Spring Training. They watch the players stretch, long-toss, practice grounders and take batting practice. Players sign autographs, and rest easy with the knowledge that every team, now and for the rest of the month, is tied for first place.
New beginnings. A fresh start. In so many ways, the seasons of life are all about this. We seek the patience to endure the harsh winters of life, the fortitude to gather up our strength for the long walk home, and the present-mindedness to savor the moments of grace that bloom before us.
A cardinal sits on a barren tree, a harbinger of things to come. A final patch of snow melts into the grass, now wet with moisture and promise. A dog dashes around the yard, sniffing all the fresh smells this sleepy ground holds. A veteran pitcher tosses two innings in Tampa to work on his off-speed stuff. An outfielder shags fly balls and does some jogging in the outfield.
I think it’s my first life, Katie. But the winter is long, and your question is fitting. As for your great-grandpa, I think he’s in all of us, to an extent. Kind of like a spring breeze.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Winter's Slow Crawl
We have wandered into the bleak mid-winter, the time of year when we find ourselves bundling up, shoveling snow and fighting assorted ailments. It’s enough to get you counting the days ‘til Spring Training begins.
I saw a poll on weather.com the other day, in which web visitors said they feel more upbeat during warmer weather by a 3-to-1 margin. While I’m certainly amenable to having a great day in January, I find myself agreeing with the scientific research that claims warm weather boosts our moods and mental health. It’s a challenge, when a flu bug is racing through your house and you can’t open the windows and there’s ice outside, to get yourself pumped up for a super day.
It can be crummy, this cold-weather scene. But if you’re living in an all-seasons climate like I am, to feel the blues for three or four months of every year can be quite a drag. The solution, of course, is to find a way of fighting through the frigid days by making your own fun. For some, it’s skiing. For others, it’s trips to the movies. For still others, it’s walks outside or on the treadmill. The list goes on.
As I sit in bed today recovering from a stomach virus, I look for the silver linings. I read some baseball “hot stove” rumors on mlb.com. I get paperwork done for my job, and even get myself ahead of the game a bit. I watch Bill Cosby and Alvin F. Poussaint speak about their new book on “Meet the Press,” and I feel inspired. I talk with my wife about going away to celebrate the 20 years we will have been together next month. I hear my girls chattering throughout the house, and listen to the joyful song of their voices.
The slogan tells us life is good. And it is right, as far as I can tell. Studies also tell us that our moods improve when we smile. So as the winter continues its slow crawl, may we all find the things that lift our spirits and make us feel as though we are standing in the warm sun.
I saw a poll on weather.com the other day, in which web visitors said they feel more upbeat during warmer weather by a 3-to-1 margin. While I’m certainly amenable to having a great day in January, I find myself agreeing with the scientific research that claims warm weather boosts our moods and mental health. It’s a challenge, when a flu bug is racing through your house and you can’t open the windows and there’s ice outside, to get yourself pumped up for a super day.
It can be crummy, this cold-weather scene. But if you’re living in an all-seasons climate like I am, to feel the blues for three or four months of every year can be quite a drag. The solution, of course, is to find a way of fighting through the frigid days by making your own fun. For some, it’s skiing. For others, it’s trips to the movies. For still others, it’s walks outside or on the treadmill. The list goes on.
As I sit in bed today recovering from a stomach virus, I look for the silver linings. I read some baseball “hot stove” rumors on mlb.com. I get paperwork done for my job, and even get myself ahead of the game a bit. I watch Bill Cosby and Alvin F. Poussaint speak about their new book on “Meet the Press,” and I feel inspired. I talk with my wife about going away to celebrate the 20 years we will have been together next month. I hear my girls chattering throughout the house, and listen to the joyful song of their voices.
The slogan tells us life is good. And it is right, as far as I can tell. Studies also tell us that our moods improve when we smile. So as the winter continues its slow crawl, may we all find the things that lift our spirits and make us feel as though we are standing in the warm sun.
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