A new season is upon us, and as usual it puts me in a state of leathery-smelling pre-occupation. I just turned thirty, but largely I’m still the kid whose As and Bs turned to Bs and Cs, thanks mostly to spending afternoon classes doodling baseball logos and writing proposed lineups.
I suppose it’s unhealthy, this baseball obsession I have, but for each person who claims to do things in moderation, to be “well-rounded,” or have “priorities,” I’ll show you a liar. In fact, I’d argue that doing everything in moderation is an obsession itself.
Town ball guys…we don’t do moderation. Is there any other way to explain, than sheer madness, a thirty year old giggling with excitement at a 40-game baseball schedule? That’s a town ball player: rather than see a psychiatrist for what ills us, we go running, equipment bags swinging from our shoulders, in the opposite direction.
