With the Red Sox having their opening day over in Japan, I dutifully set my alarm clock for 5:50 AM so I could kickoff baseball season in style, i.e. in pajamas in the dark with the sound turned real low. Co-editor Willis had suggested trying to talk via interweb as the game was going on, but I’m not fancy enough to have a laptop. I did, however, keep notes throughout the whole affair, and am presenting them to you now.
The Night Before: In order to prepare waking up ass-early, I readied myself by going to bed around 10 (which would afford me an equal night’s sleep as usual). I made myself sleepy by drinking Guinness and warm milk, though not at the same time.
c. 2-5 AM: Weird dreams. I don’t really remember what they were about – something about replacement dinners? I dunno. Anyway, I do know that in more than one dream I said, “I have to leave so I can get up early and watch the game.” No, really.
5:50 AM: Snooze button.
5:57 AM: I trudge myself out of bed, make myself comfy on the couch and fiddle with the remote until I find NESN. I turn to the channel just as the Japanese national anthem is being played. Mildly disconcerting. And then the managers are given bouquets of flowers. I wonder how Joe Torre would react to a bouquet of flowers. Or Earl Weaver.
6:07 AM: I find it reassuring to hear the voices of Don Orsillo and Jerry Remy. I take a minute to wonder what would happen if Remy were lost in downtown Tokyo without a translator. Would he ever find his way home? It’s like a zen koan.
6:11 AM: Joe Blanton takes the mound. He is on my fantasy baseball league this year, but these Tokyo games don’t count toward anything in our league due in part to their peculiar scheduling.
So I have no feelings of ambivalence, but would rather not have a Red Sox defeat that crushes his soul. Or patella.
6:19 AM: A Mark Ellis HR. Oh, goody.
6:23 AM: Jack Cust is at bat. His presence makes me wonder if there are going to be any good Mitchell-report heckles this year. It is too early in the morning for me to think of any.
6:38 AM: Seeing a scruffy Jason Varitek reminds me that I’ve missed baseball oh so very much.