Monday, May 23, 2011

The Thrill Is Gone

You know something is wrong with me when I lose interest in baseball. I have not lost total interest, but my eagerness is dwindling. Of course, I don't have cable TV service, so I'm not able to catch games or highlights. I do, however, have Internet service, so my lack of attention toward the Red Sox is inexcusable.

Boston's struggle to stay above .500 might have something to do with my lack of interest. This fact fuels Yankee fans' fire to accuse Boston fans of being fair weather. Don't get me wrong; I'm not nearly as fickle as Dallas Cowboys fans are when it comes to devoting my time and energy. I really can't explain my disinterest this season, and it pains me because baseball is the best thing about summer (and spring and fall).

I grew up watching NESN, listening to Jerry Remy on TV and Joe Castiglione on the radio, and absorbing my brother's vast knowledge of the sport. I cried in 2003 when Tim Wakefield gave up a home run to Aaron Boone. I cursed Johnny Damon for going to the Yankees. I drove alone to Fenway Park at age 20 (after lying to my aunt and saying I was going with a friend) just so I could see a game after being away from New England for six years. Red Sox baseball is in my blood, and I will never root for another team.

Yet, I still feel disconnected this season. Perhaps I've realized that, never having been athletic myself, I don't deserve to watch baseball. My older brother would tease me (lovingly, of course) when I'd ask him about fundamentals. I would never think, for instance, to check the runner on second after making a force out on first. Everyone should know that!

I vow to rekindle the flame. I pledge allegiance to New England's greatest past time. I promise to check stats online, discuss late-inning rallies with my mother, and support Nomar Garciaparra as a commentator. In my spare time, I will go to batting cages and consider joining a softball team. I might be in a funk, but that doesn't mean I should give up on a team that doesn't always succeed, and it definitely does not mean I should disavow the sport.

The strategy of the game makes it incredibly appealing, despite what other say about the game being boring. I think all I need to do is discipline myself into making time for something that helps me pass the time.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Welcome Mat, or Just Plain Doormat?

As I become older, but necessarily wiser, I am becoming harder. I'm toughening my exterior to shield myself from the basic meanness so many people show me. Yes, such a statement sounds negative, hopeless, and almost melodramatic, but I've come to realize that people mostly care only about themselves.

I'm sure my last romantic relationship intensified this feeling of disgust toward the human race, for the cruelty shown to me by my partner magnified the basic selfishness of so many men in their '20s. However, recent encounters with others in my life have opened my eyes to the ease with which people use me and take advantage of me, whether it comes in the form of last-minute requests for rides from the airport or being expected to babysit other employees' children at the workplace.

I know what you're thinking. Why do I put up with it? I don't know. I suppose it's in my nature to be kind and helpful to others. I'm not fishing for compliments or recognition (something the last boyfriend often accused me of doing). Instead, I would like to meet some new people who appreciate what I do.

It's my own fault for being a pushover. Sadly, it has driven me away from a lot of people. On the upside, though, it has allowed me to appreciate my independence and time to myself. I relish my nights in my apartment, where I live alone, eat cereal for dinner, and make a fool of myself by dancing to Janet Jackson songs and eating cereal for dinner. Still, I'm not a recluse. I welcome new friendships and experiences. If you'd like to stop by, look for the welcome mat.