Baseball Will Always Be My Girlfriend

Admittedly, it was a good run.  Not great, but compared to the cataclysmic string of non-action I experienced for the better part of almost a year, one could honestly say it was “good”. 

Though, one would be hard pressed to say much more about it than that.

Sure, I hadn’t been on a real date since September.  And yeah, the spring air got me energized and in just one week I had met three really attractive, interesting women, who — SURPRISE — actually showed interest in me.  So, yeah, after a couple of dates I narrowed the choices to just one, putting all of my efforts into swooning her, charming her, whisking her away.  And I admit, before long I felt myself falling in… yeah, no, what I mean is: I actually liked her.  No, no, I wasn’t getting ahead of myself, but it was clear to me that I actually might harbor some potential feelings down the line — that I wasn’t exactly the mass of impregnable steel I thought I was.  And to me, things were going just swell.  I even realized that maybe — FINALLY — I might make a surging recovery from the hapless nights of Old Style, Tombstone pizzas and and an endless loop of King of Queens reruns that I had become so, so used to.

And then…

Nothing.

It all stopped — suddenly.  Like an Aaron Miles foul ball destroying Juan Encarnacion’s unsuspecting face…

Fade to black.

Game over.

But, dear readers, fret not, because there is an upside to the death of my social life and its name is Baseball.

baseball.light.jpg

My MLBtv subscription, and the live games it provides on demand, is much easier on the wallet than dinner and drinks out on the town — more filling than the awkward moments of silence — more satisfying than the barrage of clumsy kisses. 

It’s true. 

Baseball will never play mind games.
Baseball will never question my sincerity.
Baseball will never send me bland, impersonal text messages.
Baseball will never be offended by my arrogance.
Baseball will never stray from being completely honest with me.
Baseball will never be intimidated by my overwhelming good looks.
Baseball will never drop kick my ego.
Baseball will never ignore my phone calls.
Baseball will never judge me.

And that’s why no matter how down I get, no matter how depressed, how much I want to sit around and feel sorry for myself, all I have to do is turn on the game, sit back, relax and remember that baseball makes me feel good.

Sure, it can’t cuddle with me, cook, or give me a heej, but in the end, who needs all that anyway?  With the Windy City Classic less than two weeks away, an exciting NL Central battle escalating and an explosive Southside squad knocking the snot out of the ball, I know I and everything around me, will be just fine…

…at least until October.

After that I might need some serotonin reuptake inhibitors.

Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeffy

7 Comments

So hadn’t you noticed that baseball was a game of a bat and balls?

I dunno, baseball has broken my heart more than once. Strikes. Steroids. Mark “Goober” Newman and MLBlogs. Personally, if I were you, I’d get back in the hunt.

But then, I’m still a bachelor after all these years… 8)

Michael Norton
Some Clubhouse

You definitely have a point, Michael. Though, I have to say, for me, 1982 and 2006 were enough to keep me coming back for the rest of my life. No one, no thing, can ever take that joy away from me. Those memories live forever, despite the woes of the early 90s in St. Louis, and unfortunately, past relationship highlights never seem to give me the same satisfaction since I’m immediately reminded that they are indeed in the past.

–Jeff

Its hard for me to believe that a wooden stick and a white ball can take your mind off the softness of a lady”s skin but i certainly am no judge of women. Look at the choices I’ve made. Real bad role model for the children. SORRY

By “bad role model” I assume you’re referencing yourself and not putting that on anyone else. That is fine. I understand that you may feel you have let your children down, when in fact, you haven’t. You are entitled to your feelings. I also understand that, in this comment, you are utilizing the literary tools of hyperbole and sarcasm (as learned by we at RSBS). BUT, Baba, PLEASE be reminded that you are not the only parent of mine who reads this and I can see how your recent comment maybe be read as offensive. As a rule, I will never edit or delete the comments of RSBS readers (unless it’s so profanity-laced that it is intelligible) but please know that I am now in a sensitive situation.

–Jeff

Nice post Jeff!!
Keep up the great work and comment on my last snagging post when u get a chance.

-Chris
The Baseball Collector
http://baseballcollector.mlblogs.com
http://snaggingbaseballs.com

Firstly-I agree with Michael that sport can break your heart.In fact ONLY sport can break your heart because only sport promises ideals that can never be lived up to.
Secondly-I am both perplexed and intrigued by a seeming family wound being opened up. I suggest more of this, possibly with a “Holiday Showdown” style finale.

http://arizonaviaslough.blogspot.com/

Russell — I guess you don’t get let down too often when you’re a Cardinal fan. That must be it. :-)

As for the family feud, I’m a child of divorce, so these are not uncharted waters by any means. I will try to arrange the Holiday Showdown for your (and my) amusement. Unfortunately, the last time my mother and father were in the same room together, they were both extremely cordial, friendly and peaceful. What a letdown!

–Jeff

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