Life has a certain pace to it, a rhythm that invariably follows the seasons. Autumn is quick and steady like the fall breeze. The impending chill stiffens one's resolve to get things done. The kids return to school, projects that lingered over the summer are begun in earnest. The spring, too, has this quick pace. Springtime brings with it the promise of new life and a fresh start. Winter is perhaps the busiest time of the year. The frantic pace of the holiday season, the mad dash to complete tasks before the end of the year deadline--not to mention the shorter days--make the winter season seem like a blur.
Summer, however, is a completely different animal. Long, lazy days by the pool. Barbeques on the back deck with good friends where the conversation lasts long into the night. And Baseball. Summer is baseball. The very rules of the game seem to mesh with the season: no time limitations--the game simply goes on until the last out is recorded. In Fall, we return to football--with its strict clock regimentation, two minute warnings, and play clock. But during these majestic summer days, we get to enjoy the poetry of baseball.
Both of my sons play on summer tournament teams. For the past three weeks, between practices and tournament games, our little family has been living baseball. I haven't really had much time to keep up with politics, current events or the blogosphere. Judging from a cursory view of the current 'buzz', it seems I haven't really missed too much. The Rove/Plame conspiracy seems to be the single greatest non-conspiracy of our time. Natale Holloway is still missing in Aruba, the authorities there are no closer to figuring it all out, and Fox News is still covering it ad nauseum. President Bush hasn't floated anyone's name to replace Justice O'Connor on the Supreme Court--and anyone he does suggest is going to be bitterly opposed by the Democrats anyway--just, well, because.
So for now, the clock isn't ticking--there is no two-minute warning. I'm enjoying every minute of watching my boys shag fly balls and hit line drives under the hot summer sun. I'm sure the news cycle will pick up steam again soon. But I'm not in a rush. There's no rushing in baseball.
Sounds like a wonderful summer...
This post, in particular, struck me. It was very poetic and soulful...
Well written...
Posted by: Dana | Monday, July 18, 2005 at 04:48 PM