In the past week or so, I’ve written about Roger Clemens’ fall from grace three times, and seen the roof over my front porch fall as well. I’ve had four or five carpenters doing their best for several days and they seem to be making progress, slowly.
I feel as though I am living in an alternate universe as Hurricane Earl is beating up on the easternmost part of New England – thankfully not here in the middle of Connecticut.
Somewhere the real world beckons.
I guess this is where baseball comes in – it is the real world and it is not. For some it is a profession, but for most of us, it is a distraction from the real world. It’s a game. Some take it very seriously, others come to the stadium to roam, shop and visit.
At times like this, I look to the writings of A. Bartlett Giamatti who wrote:
“There are a lot of people who know me who can’t understand for the life of them why I would go to work on something as unserious as baseball. If they only knew. There’s nothing bad that accrues from baseball.”