Sunday, April 01, 2007
There's Christmas and then New Years Day. Then there's my fantasy baseball draft followed by Opening Day. Synonomous, really.
One calender tells me whether I should buy a jacket or get a tan for the ladies, which way to turn my clock and when I should see my extended family.
The other calender tells me when pitchers and catchers go back to work (Thanksgiving?), what sleeper picks I should look to grab in the later rounds of my fantasy draft, etc.
I look forward the latter calender more.
Getting up the morning of my draft is like being six years old all over again. Back when Santa Clause was cool to believe in, I'd stay up, snuggled on my friggid third-floor bedroom and try to predict what presents the chubby old guy would leave under my tree. Now that fantasy sports is cool I wait all day wondering what position in the draft I'll have and what types of presents unprepared owners will leave my under the tree.
Then a week later there's New Year's, a time to get tanked and throw previous bad habits behind, like getting tanked too often. In baseball land this is known as Opening Day, a time to enjoy a good matchup on ESPN and throw away bad habits like dropping that year's Cy Young Award winner (see: my 2004 when I dropped Johan Santana after 8 starts... he was about 1-6 with roughly a 2,200.29 ERA. See also: traumatic episodes that distort memory).
The baseball calender doesn't make me change the time on my clock or to go to church, although it stops momentarily for the all-star break and at times of importance (Dice-K's first start, pennant chases, etc.) I'll try to get tickets to go to the only cathedral I've gotten beer spilled on me at, Fenway Park.
It feels a lot like Chinese New Year, in that people recognize there's another calender millions across the globe follow and relate to besides their own.
Millions relate to this same calender too. And finally it's a New Year and dear say Joe Morgan is our Dick Clark.
Mets versus Cards tonight. 8 p.m. Get your televisions set, the ball is about to drop.
One calender tells me whether I should buy a jacket or get a tan for the ladies, which way to turn my clock and when I should see my extended family.
The other calender tells me when pitchers and catchers go back to work (Thanksgiving?), what sleeper picks I should look to grab in the later rounds of my fantasy draft, etc.
I look forward the latter calender more.
Getting up the morning of my draft is like being six years old all over again. Back when Santa Clause was cool to believe in, I'd stay up, snuggled on my friggid third-floor bedroom and try to predict what presents the chubby old guy would leave under my tree. Now that fantasy sports is cool I wait all day wondering what position in the draft I'll have and what types of presents unprepared owners will leave my under the tree.
Then a week later there's New Year's, a time to get tanked and throw previous bad habits behind, like getting tanked too often. In baseball land this is known as Opening Day, a time to enjoy a good matchup on ESPN and throw away bad habits like dropping that year's Cy Young Award winner (see: my 2004 when I dropped Johan Santana after 8 starts... he was about 1-6 with roughly a 2,200.29 ERA. See also: traumatic episodes that distort memory).
The baseball calender doesn't make me change the time on my clock or to go to church, although it stops momentarily for the all-star break and at times of importance (Dice-K's first start, pennant chases, etc.) I'll try to get tickets to go to the only cathedral I've gotten beer spilled on me at, Fenway Park.
It feels a lot like Chinese New Year, in that people recognize there's another calender millions across the globe follow and relate to besides their own.
Millions relate to this same calender too. And finally it's a New Year and dear say Joe Morgan is our Dick Clark.
Mets versus Cards tonight. 8 p.m. Get your televisions set, the ball is about to drop.
# posted by Justin Townsend @ 3:15 PM 
