It is a bit early in the baseball season to be totally down on my favorite baseball team. But it is annoying that our pitching is so erratic that we cannot win for love or money. My favorite pitcher for many years has been Clay Buchholz ( I don’t know if that’s spelled right, he either has two ‘c’s or two ‘h’s and I can never remember which.) and he has shown moments of his brilliant self this year. But he is unreliable right now. The arms that we got to replace those lost in the fire sale of talent last year have been similarly inconsistent, and mostly down. A few moments of pleasure mixed with a bunch of pain.
The big hitters are showing some sign of waking up. They got us 5 runs today, which would normally be enough but the pitching went seriously south, and the opposing team had 13 runs. It is days like this, when I stay to the bitter end, thata I know there are better ways to spend my time.
After all, I have two different books in progress and another one is resting for a rewrite. I have books I want to read and things I want to knit (though I can knit and watch the Red Sox at the same time). I walked the labyrinth at my church today before the service, and there was the funniest service I have ever attended. This left me feeling enlivened and willing to face anything. Then the Red Sox.
It’s hard to break a 48 year habit. Especially when the other habits I’m trying to tear myself away to do are only of a few years’ duration. So what is a person to do?
Well, I went to LinkedIn and removed myself from groups I hadn’t looked at in a year. I commented on a few threads that I should have noticed earlier. I watched a short video about self-marketing on Facebook. I played with my cats. I checked out apartments. I did all the other time-wasting things one does whiile waiting for something magical to happen on the baseball diamond. Then I turned off the tv and wrote. Which is what I shoud have been doing anyway. Bah, humbug.