What happened to you, man?
You see those news stories about throngs of Phillies fans lining up to buy single game tickets and instead of passing enthusiasm, your struck by a resounding twinge of guilt and nostalgia. That used to be you.
You yearn for your unattached days of debauchery, when you’d skip work to head on down to the stadium, get drunk and sleep in makeshift tent, all in the name of being first in line for something… anything. These days, your biggest adventure is remembering to pick up diapers on the way home from work or washing the car on Sundays or shoveling cat shit out of the litter box without waking that awful, awful cat that for some reason refuses to sleep anywhere but on top of its own shit.
You used to be the man. Now you’re just another sober, blind suburbanite with a loving family and an adequately trimmed lawn.
Phillies tickets went on sale yesterday!
Sure, you missed it. It wasn’t that fun. Just people, literally buying tickets to a happy summer. Thinking of the warm caressing their faces as a gentle night breeze welcomes the dusk. Nodding at each other as everyone thinks about Cliff Lee hitting a grand slam or Michael Martinez striking out the side in bottom of the 12th or whatever weird quirky thing we’ll remember from this season.
Regardless, the tickets are gone now, and some might say that pitchers and catchers reporting to Clearwater is the start of baseball, but we all know that with all of the available tickets now up for grabs, Phillies season is well underway. It’s been a long winter. The thought of men standing on a baseball diamond is enough to make you quit your job, shoot that cat, and go on the road, playing for traveling minor league teams, Moonlight Graham-style.
But you can’t though. What if your spouse finds out? Better just sneak back into the house, unload your duffel bag full of high school baseball equipment, and indulge in that nice bottle of wine you keep in the washing machine.