Well, beat the drum, and hold the phone...

I'm so ready for baseball season it's become a little embarrassing; the preoccupation is so great that I found myself wearing one of my favorite Mets long-sleeve t's today, with chinos. I'm not the only one living in my apartment who feels this way; Alexis found herself watching Mets Classic games on SNY today, in lieu of the last spring training game (it was untelevised), just to tide herself over until the season begins on Monday.

Though we didn't land tickets to either of this weekend's exhibition games at Citi Field against the Red Sox, Alexis and I will still be at Willets Point this weekend. We're going on Sunday for Workout Day, when the guys will be on the field and the rest of us will be wandering the new stadium.

It's hard to believe, but my team is sleeping in their regular-season beds tonight, having flown up from Florida tonight in advance of the games at Citi this weekend. Though these are exhibition games, there is an air of excitement surrounding the first games that major-leaguers will play in the new ballpark, and I can't help but feel its breeze.

...the sun came out today
we're born again
there's new grass on the field...

merch

Growing up, I didn't wear much Mets merchandise. This is likely because my dad, the most committed Mets fan I knew growing up, only ever wore the Mets shoe laces I got him for Christmas one year.

When I lived in Los Angeles and went to Mets games in Chavez Ravine, I felt the need to wear something that designated me as a Mets fan in exile. This was almost a decade ago (wow), before the t-shirts specifically designed for women were anything but pink and icky, so I ended up with an ill-fitting men's t-shirt that just said METS across the chest. I still wear that shirt to sleep sometimes. I also bought a Mets cap before going to Israel for the first time, and am still sad that I seem to have lost it in one of my moves since.

As I've spent more time as a fan not living with my dad and with folks who do wear Mets merchandise, I've developed my own feelings about how I dress when I go to games. And I like the t-shirts and sweatshirt and hat that I have. The options for women have expanded, and there are a couple of brands that design t-shirts and outerwear that I really like. Plus, I have some orange t-shirts, which when combined with jeans are Mets colors, too.

But whoever designed the bikini took a big step over the line of taste.

a week late

Usually, the MLB season starts this week. This season, it's starting a week later than usual, because of the WBC. I'm a WBC supporter (though I think there's a better time of the year to pay the classic than during spring training), but today I'm sweating that extra week. If holding my breath would make April 6th come sooner, I'd do it. Alexis was wearing her Mets hat when I got home last night, and I wore orange today; baseball season is clearly in the air in Brooklyn.

Like any good Mets fan, I'm a bit concerned about pitching, but like any good baseball fan, I'm dismissing spring training results as any sort of predictor for how even the beginning of the season will unfold. It's simply not predictive.

It's nice to have a manager who thinks the way I do; today in Port St. Lucie, Jerry said this: "The Major Leagues will tell you," Manuel said. "Spring Training just won't."

The Baseball Calendar

Last week, Alexis and I did the baseball calendar... which meant she read me the dates we have tickets to games, and I put them in our calendar. Three days ago, she told me that the Brooklyn Cyclones (a Mets farm club) were having a "Baracklyn Cyclones" game, and that she'd gotten us tickets.

And then she told me about the bobble-head. I have the best roommate ever, and my president isn't half-bad, either.

30 days

...until opening day.

I've been telling myself all winter that all I really needed to do was make it to baseball season again. It's been a horrible winter for all kinds of reasons, and there were times in December, January and February when I wasn't sure I'd make it to the beginning of April, or be able to look forward to the season once March inevitably arrived.

I've made it six months. 30 days is nothing. And I AM looking forward with great anticipation to the season. Plus, I've got the WBC to tide me over!

with my own eyes

I took the train to Manhasset today, which is the Port Washington line, the one that goes to Sh... Citi Field. So I strained to see it from every angle possible from the train, and I have to say, it's a beautiful park. I couldn't be more looking forward to going to games there.

But.

Shea really isn't there anymore. I said a few days ago that it would take me seeing it with my own eyes to believe it, though I said at the time that it would be when I first got off the train to go to Citi Field that it really hit me that Shea was gone. I was obviously wrong about the second part, because the lack of Shea made me a little teary-eyed.

I'll miss you, old girl.

Go Mac!!

Warning: this post has only tangential, at best, relation to the Mets.

My sister's boyfriend (hereafter referred to as MSB), like her, is a freshman at Macalester. He's a pitcher. For the last five months, he's been claiming that he's not that great a pitcher.

He was lying.

Today was opening day for Macalester Baseball, which happens to have taken place in the Metrodome, where the Twins play. That's awesome enough all on it's own, but MSB was
pretty sure he wasn't gonna play today. He was wrong. Not only was he the first freshman pitcher to take the mound, he threw two scoreless innings, including a strikeout on three pitches. That's MSB in his wind-up in the picture above.

What does all this have to do with the Mets? Nothing, really, except that I'm SO JEALOUS that my sister got to watch a baseball game live and in person today, and I'm really, really proud of MSB.

Go Mac Baseball!!


thanks to Molly Frean for the picture.

Routine

Baseball players are creatures of habit, of routine. Most hitters do exactly the same things in the on-deck circle in exactly the same order every single time they're in the hole. Most pitchers come to a set position using exactly the same movements every time-- Joe Smith with his routine of pants, belt, hat, then onto the mound is an extreme example, but Johan has a routine too-- the adorable shaking of the hips while staring over his glove at the catcher, then coming to a set.

Baseball fans tend to mirror baseball players in the desire for routine. I've written before about how, during the season, baseball tends to order a fan's days; everything is measured in terms of how much of the game you'll see on TV, how much you'll get to on the radio, whether you'll be relegated to watching on your preferred internet gameday application, whether you'll miss the game entirely and will be furtively checking for updates during whatever is keeping you from seeing tonight's game.

There's not a lot in the world one can count on; I've had more examples of this in my life recently than I care to think about. But during the season, one can count on baseball, every single day. This has been perhaps the hardest winter of my life; I cannot possibly be more looking forward to the daily routine of baseball to bring the kind of order to my days that it does during the season, and to bring the daily feelings of joy and disappointment and anticipation and excitement and interest and love and competition and loyalty that one can only get from being a fan.

Only 46 days to go.