Thursday, February 24, 2005

Spring Training

In Boston, spring is a word that is only understood in relation to baseball. Spring means that the Red Sox are down in Ft. Myers, Florida, where it's warm, and preparations are being made to open Fenway Park, where it's cold. The local Red Sox broadcasting network has been re-playing the World Series games, and, besides noticing how much less emotionally gripping those games were than the ALCS against the Yankees, I also took note that it was 46 degrees. In mid-October. It's been 46 degrees in February, it'll be 46 in March, and it'll still be 46 on opening day at Fenway, April 11th. Sigh. I do love the Red Sox, but I really miss springtime in D.C., where I grew up. Spring is my favorite season, a season that signifies beginnings. Up here, fall is the favorite season -- and it is a beauty, but fall to me still seems like a downer.

Oh well, here's hoping I score some Green Monster tickets to the opening series against the Yankees in April.



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