Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Summer Magic

 Hello People,  


     I don't like winter.  There, I said it. I miss spring and summer. Nothing makes me happier than spending a full season of the year almost entirely out doors.  Right now I'm not in the best of locations for spending a season out doors.  Outside, yes.  But outdoors, in the "over the hills and far away" sense?  No.  Right now its worse.  Its winter time and as I said, I don't like winter.  I don't mean to complain. I'm merely stating the truth when I say that winter is awful.  Its too cold and too ugly to go outside.  Its wet and rainy or snowy here, the sun does not shine through the blanket of clouds overhead, and the wind is unstoppable as it strives to chill me to the bone.  All in all, there could never be a more bleak or hopeless time than winter.  I don't like winter, and George, the same thing goes for Christmas (*GASP!).  Its about this time every year that I begin to feel like winter will never end, summer will never come, and there is nothing but despair.

     I don't despair, however, because can you smell it? I can.  There is a warm breeze on the horizon.  It speaks of great and wonderful things to come.  Of heat and dust, and green, fresh mowed grass, and the crack of Jason Heyward's bat.  Just around the corner is the most wonderful time of the year.  Pitchers and Catchers have reported to Spring Training.  Baseball is coming! Baseball is coming!  Every year I try to put into words just how I feel about this, but I never can.  There's just too much in the summer time to me for me to adequately sum it up.

    I like to think that I've always been diehard about the Braves, but I was not raised to be a baseball fan.  My dad enjoys the Braves when he can, and my mom doesn't see the point.  Actually, I don't think she's ever missed an opportunity to make her, "A bunch of grown men getting paid to  hit a ball..." speech in my whole lifetime.  As a kid, Little League was one of the most terrifying experiences of my childhood, though this could be due to a tendency toward alcohol and tantrums on the part of my coaches.  I did, however, grow up in Georgia and thus through osmosis absorbed a deep sense of liking the Braves, despising the Yankees, and shaking my head at the Yankees' inexplicable southern born fans (Seriously people, you're ridiculous!). It was only a few years ago that I became a true fan with a love for Major League Baseball.

     Growing up, summer time was the best of times.  How can one capture the magic of a childhood summer?  Riding bikes from the time the sun came up to long after it went down (much against my parents' rules), afternoons swimming at Clarks Hill lake, friends over constantly from in town and out, summer camp, and adventures that I can't even begin to comprehend now.  I was born in the spring, but I'm a child of summer time.

     As I've grown up, I've spent much of my time trying to recapture this magic of summer time. Working outdoors all summer long in the sun, camping, hiking, hammocking, or cycling on the weekends, all of these have been attempts to resurrect childhood summer magic.  But nothing, don't ask me why, can capture that magic for me now, like Atlanta Braves Baseball.  What is there better in life than coming in from a long, hot day of work, cracking open a coca-cola, and watching (or better yet listening) to a Braves game?  What speaks of summer better than listening to the stories of Don Sutton while watching the fireflies outside?  There is nothing better.  

     This year Baseball takes on an even greater significance for me as it provides a connection to something else I've left behind, Home.  The day before Hazel and I flew from Atlanta to come to Telmar, I was riding bikes with my little brother on the Rome River Walk.  My brother is a Rome Braves fan to the core.  For him, the Rome Braves are primary, and the Atlanta Braves may as well be the farm team.  Maybe he has the right idea.  The river walk travels just behind, and then around, the Rome Braves Stadium.  As we traveled the circumference he exclaimed, "Bubba! We should ride our bikes to a Rome Braves game sometime!"  Thats when it hit me, "I'm leaving this kid for two years" and it hit me hard. I said, "Curious George, why don't you and Dad do that!"  He seemed to consider that seriously for a moment, chewing on each word of what I had suggested before replying simply, "No, I'll wait."

     Baseball season is coming, and though I'm far away, I'll be listening. Not just for the summer magic and the World Series Title that the Braves will win (and they will win), but for those couple of hours of everyday, when I can be back in Georgia sipping Coca-Cola and watching the fireflies.


2 comments:

  1. Curious George also said he's waiting to watch "Rocky II" with you. And, don't think he doesn't have a concept of time. He does. He just thinks some things are worth the wait.

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    1. Don't let the weather get you down, brudder. And don't you ever, but NEVER, make fun of no cripple.

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