“Nothing will ever be as much fun as baseball.”–Mickey Mantle
Truer words were never spoken. When faced with having to use up 5 vacation days before the end of March, it was pretty clear what I needed to do. I could either go to Rio with my girlfriends or Tampa alone. (Or stay home and watch daytime television and capitalize on the fact you can have McDonald’s delivered in NYC.) I received more than a few weird looks when I told everyone at work I was taking off for Spring Training by myself. Or as my boss said, “The Yankees are going to sic a restraining order on you soon.”
Why did I venture to Legends Field solo? Because no one else I know would want to arrive at the stadium 4 hours before it started just to watch Yogi Berra drive around in a golf cart. Or would want to sit in the stadium long after the game was over just listening to “New York, New York” play on a loop. Or would recognize that the beauty of Spring Training is not the games themselves, but what they represent. They’re not just a pre-party for the impending best months of the year. I wasn’t just taking a vacation from TPS reports. I was taking a vacation from steroids, exhausted media-coverage of certain rivalries, running tallies of payrolls, and watching once-awe-inspiring players become shells of their former selves.