I'm already in Countdown to Spring Training mode for the 2020 baseball and not because my Yankees didn't win the World Series (again).
I love baseball mostly for many of the reasons that I keep reading are also factors in its continued loss of mass appeal: the absence of time constraints (look at football, basketball, hockey, soccer as points of comparison), the reliance on ritual and routine, and the breaks in the battle when coaches and managers make trips to the mound for pitching changes or consultations and the whole infield heads out there for a palaver (and I keep thinking maybe a snack that was smuggled out there in a baseball glove)
I have days and nights of Hot Stove machinations to cogitate and ruminate about and will savor every moment of them. While applauding every member of the Washington Nationals' organization on their first-ever World Series championship, I'd hope they spare a thoughtful moment for a pair of unsung, though probably well-ogled, heroines who had, perhaps, a critical role in their success and who paid a price for that devotion.
Like it wasn't hard enough already to keep track of balls and strikes?
-bill kenny
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