Bonk? Don’t you just hate the sound of an aluminum bat striking the old horsehide? Bonk isn’t nearly as American apple pie as whack or crack.
Thank God baseball season is almost upon us again. The period of time between the end of football and the beginning of baseball is like a vast arid wilderness. The wait makes me feel like a lost child of Israel. When the baseballs finally start raining down again it’s like manna from heaven feeding my soul. But bonk?
Ash Wednesday this week marks the beginning of Lent and every year I wonder what I should give up for Lent. You know, we’re called to sacrifice and suffer a little, to experience penance and pain so we may deepen our relationships to God. Yokay. But give up baseball? Thank God I don’t have to watch basketball when I need my sports fix.
Here’s a thought that didn’t occur to me; according to an article I read in the Wall Street Journal, Ozzie Guillen, the former - and somewhat controversial - manager of the Chicago White Sox and Miami Marlins, apparently said he thought the opening day of baseball season should be declared a national holiday. Hey! Sam and I vote for that! What a great idea. Of course, the retailers would try to turn Opening Day into some kind of sales event the same way they do with Memorial Day, Fourth of July and Christmas, just to name a few examples. Sheesh!
I really get all weepy and nostalgic when baseball season rolls around again. Stupid too. I can’t walk into a store like Big 5 where they have all these new baseball mitts displayed. I’m always tempted to buy one even though I probably couldn’t chase down a fly ball with a motor scooter or bend over to field a routine grounder without needing somebody to straighten me back up. Oh, the smell of that leather! I want to grab a mitt, oil the pocket, take it outside and start playing catch. Unfortunately, I have nobody with whom to play catch. There are no young boys on my street who look like viable candidates.
I still remember when I lived in Paso Robles, CA for a couple of years. I met this old guy who had been a minor league pitcher for the Yankees. He had longed for someone to play catch with him and since I was a pretty healthy strapping young man he asked me if I’d like to play catch. Heck yeah; for a former Yankees pitcher? Absolutement! Man, he used to sting my hand with his fast balls, but I loved it.
I guess the love of baseball is what made Seahawks quarterback Russell Wilson show up at the Texas Rangers training camp recently. Even a Superbowl ring can’t compare to a World Series ring. But dang, if he goes and gets hurt . . . Ranger manager Ron Washington says he has no intention of “putting Wilson at the plate.” We hope not. Sure would hate to see Wilson get bonked up. You can get hurt playing baseball - any sport really - just like you can when playing football. A high school kid here in Lacey nearly had his eye put out by a ball he fouled off an aluminum bat one time.
Anyway, take me out to the ball game and buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks. No wait! Let me stay at home in front of my big screen TV drinking beer and eating nachos. That’s better. Play Ball!
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