It’s 1:28 AM in Colorado, where I write this from, on the morning of March 26th, 2020.
I can’t sleep. I bet you can’t either.
Today was supposed to be the start of a 162-game marathon that would give us something to look forward to almost every day. Something to analyze, something to enjoy, something to distract us from our worries and give us a much-needed outlet.
Today we were supposed to don red caps and jerseys with the names Schmidt, Carlton, Rollins, Utley, Howard, Hoskins, or Harper. We were supposed to gather in stadiums, bars, and living rooms to drink beers, eat hot dogs, and watch the start of a great American tradition that we’ve clung to all of our lives.
We’re all disappointed. That’s okay. We’ll all be okay.
Remember, baseball will be back soon enough. What a perfect day that will be.
Baseball will come.
“America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field. This game. It’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good and that could be again.”
Be safe, be healthy, and look forward to what’s ahead.