Time to Play, Never Tasted Such a Sweet Thing

BOSTON, MA

Jackie likes the smell of grass he used to play ball, playing in the sun. If Jackie had his way, he’d give some cut grass to everyone.

                                                                            -      Widespread Panic

The move to Boston and global warming have conspired to create a new cycle for the change of seasons. In years past, my Spring had a system: Pitchers and catchers report, I take a weekday afternoon to hike or a day trip to the beach before the condo commandos invade, and then take a day off for Opening Day.

The culmination of this was always opening day at Yankee Stadium. There was no guarantee of warmth and sunshine, but by this time, I’d stolen at least two or three quality days in the great outdoors and the first pitch was a promise that summer was coming soon, along with the things that make it a series of lovely moments: the smell of the outdoors in the morning, the breeze off the water, cold beers over evening NHL games, the hum of a ballpark when you arrive, beer and peanuts enjoyed in the stands, and the smell of cut grass. The team on the field made me optimistic for the prospects of the summer and the crowd’s energy with the first Yankee run scored made me feel like a kid.

This year was so much different, with Massachusetts having an extended winter which lasted well past Spring Training, no dog in the NHL fight and no Yankee Stadium to stoke the memories of past summers as a promise of what’s to come. It was all depressing, annoying and hopeless like a long, cold rainy day. Even a trip for an early-season back to NYC for a Yankee game didn’t break the funk.

Instead, the magic of spring came in an entirely new way.

This year, I found myself cutting the lawn for the first time in a still new-feeling home. The smell of wet, cut grass drying out before I raked it took me back to decades to elementary school and the smell of the ball fields of home in Colorado. I felt like a kid again (although this time I wasn’t sneaking Skoal bandits, but enjoying a cigar and beer), and the prospect of the baseball season has a whole new vibe.

Summer evenings in Fenway, a jewel of the sports world, await. And while I’ll never feel excitement for the first run scored by the Red Sox, there’s a similar energy, the beer is just as cold, the peanuts saltier (no unsalted Bazzini nuts here) and the grass is just as perfect and smells wonderful. Like time, baseball always marches on, so keep marching with it.

Spring is here, Yanks/Sox on TV for the division lead tonight. Let’s go, Yankees.

In the meantime, here’s hoping you all find a little cut grass, it’s been a long winter.