If I had a Dollar for Ever Time...

My free time has been hi-jacked. An all American terrorist has take it for ransom and won't give it back. That terrorist, baseball. Every night I come home, run, make dinner and then sit in front of the TV and waste the rest of my night watching the orioles lose. And now, thanks to fantasy baseball, I'm watching whatever other games are on too, because I probably have a player on my team playing in the game - unless it's a Yankees or Red Sox game as I made a pack not to draft anyone from either team. It's absolutely ridiculous. Up until a few years ago, I didn't even like baseball that much. In college I'd turn Sportscenter off when they started talking about America's pastime. I considered the summer months to be the worst for sports because nothing but baseball was in season. And sure, I've always followed my loathsome Orioles as they led me on a journey of defeat, depression and shame - a journey which I happen to still be on - but I could have cared less about any other teams. For the most part, I had no idea who was even good in the league. All I could remember were the older guys, who in my memory were young. They're all in their late forties now.

As a kid, I knew every player in the league. That was the magic of baseball cards. They were like the flash cards you'd use to memorize words in Spanish or write facts on to help prepare for the big test. I'd go to the ballpark and be able to rattle off every player on the field. Orioles and visitors. And, for the guys who were either good or popular, I could have probably told you their stats for the previous three years. My dad would buy me a program on the way in and I would have the starting lineups filled in almost before they put it up on the board.

After graduating college, I slowly began to renew my interest in baseball. I think being isolated in Southwest Virginia, miles from any semblance of a professional sports team, much less a baseball program, made me apathetic. Once I was back in Baltimore, with easy access to the team, the atmosphere - of which there generally is little but it's better than nothing - and most importantly the stadium, I was drawn back in. A random Friday night game, a Sunday game that someone gave me tickets to, a middle of the week late game on a cool summer night. How could I resist that kind of wooing. That's how it all began, again. And now it's taking over.

I haven't been productive all week at home. I haven't practiced guitar or written songs. I haven't posted to the blog except when at work. I still haven't touched my novel from last November I'm supposed to be editing. By the time I get around to that one it's going to seem like someone else wrote it because I won't remember a thing. So many worthwhile undertakings I should be working on. Things that expand the mind, open doors and make me a more well rounded person. Things I could finish and and, for once, experience a sense of accomplishment because of. Thank God I haven't started slacking on my running. That would be really sad.

I'm hoping this is all just the hype of opening week and I'll get over it soon. Maybe an O's win will help to ease my addiction. If that's the cause, I might be in trouble considering how they looked in their first three games. I know I'm going to watch till they get that first win. I want to see it. Like the birth of newborn baby, the first win of the season always brings hope, no matter when it comes. I watched almost ever Orioles game from the beginning of the season through the all-star break last year. It better not take us that long to get a win, I've got too much to do.