Back when I was a single man, a man with no familial obligations, a man with a job that allowed me to wake up at the crack of 10 in the morning, there was nothing I enjoyed more than a west coast Phillies trip.
Then, something happened. Something I didn’t foresee ever really happening to me.
I got a life.
That’s right, I found a woman to marry me, I found a woman to have children with me, and I found a woman to buy a home with me (yes, it’s all the same woman). Not only that, I have a job that now requires me to wake up every morning of my life at 3:30am – which by the way is neither late at night or early in the morning… it’s right smack dab in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT – whereas before I didn’t have to roll into my job until noon.
Those were the salad days.
Of course, getting done my work day at one in the afternoon allows me the time to play with my son in our front yard, or take him to the park on a beautiful spring day, or get some much needed items done around the house. I have a full honey-do list, and with a second little guy due next month, time is about to get even tighter.
I say all this because it’s become apparent to me that it’s going to be a long time before I’m able to watch a Phillies west-coast road swing again.
Even on the weekends, when I can sleep as late as the boy will allow (which is usually around 6am), staying up until one or two in the morning is just a dumb idea. It leaves me groggy and fuzzy and cranky all day long. And really, the only people in my house who are allowed to be groggy and fuzzy and cranky are my son and pregnant wife, mainly because that is what nature intends. My son because he’s two and my wife because pregnancy is a tidal wave of hormones the likes of which men cannot and never will be able to understand.
I missed the Phillies’ beating of Madison Bumgarner and the hated Giants last night. I missed Dom Brown’s moonshot into McCovey Cove. I had to watch it on replay the next morning, knowing the final outcome. Because I am a grown-up now, I was forced to miss one of the better efforts the Phils have put forth so far this year.
But that’s OK. I’m not mad. I just want the west coast to stop being three hours behind us, that’s all.
I mean, who plays baseball at 4 o’clock in the afternoon every freaking day? Who sits down to watch NFL games at 10 am every Sunday morning?
Socialists, that’s who.
Baseball was a better game when all the teams were located east of the Mississippi. Back then, the league didn’t require people to work the next day on three hours’ sleep, causing productivity at the office to plummet like Apple stock.
But now, everyone has to accommodate the tree-huggers on the west coast. For the next week, we have to play according to THEIR rules. And for people like me, the people with a family and a job and an early work day, I will have to go without my Phillies for a full week.
I know, I know, this really isn’t all that big a sacrifice. It’s not like I’m being asked to give up soda or Boy Meets World for a week. Those would simply be unreasonable requests.
Still, now that I have responsibilities, and my care-free days of yore are no more, I hate Phillies west coast trips.
Especially when we beat that wart on the butt of humanity, the San Francisco Giants.