“Liveblogging” “Opening Day”
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.
6:57 AM: A questionable call ends the second inning. No matter, I’ll take it.
7:09 AM: I resignedly leave the living room, as I have to start getting ready for work. I don’t have to deal face-to-face with clients, so I’m not sure why I can’t show up unshowered and in my stained sweatshirt. ????? ???? ??????
7:35 AM: Cleaned up and ready to go, I return to the game. I am relieved the score hasn’t become worse than 2-0. I am disappointed that the score has not improved from 2-0. My initial reaction indicates my mindset.
7:42 AM: The Tokyo Dome concourse looks like a mall food court.
7:45 AM: Back to back K’s by Dice-K shows he’s finally getting into his groove. Funny, this reminds me of last year.
7:57 AM: Man-Ram drives in 2!
8:01 AM: Brandon Moss has an RBI! And…a pitching change. Guess a good a time as any to head to work.
8:05 AM: When is it going to be so goddamn cold in the mornings?
8:14 AM: If those newspaper guys get any more aggressive with their papers they’re going to start throwing them at people. Wrapped around rocks.
8:39 AM: I arrive at work – early. I head to the employee lounge, where a co-worker of mine is already there watching the game. Apparently Direct TV fucked up big time since their broadcast signal of NESN wasn’t working. My coworker called them and the customer service person answered saying, “YES. WE KNOW.” Hell hath no fury like Bostonites without their baseball.
8:40 AM: Oh yes. The score. Sox are now down 3-4. In addition, I apparently missed Don and Jerry talking about back tattoos, which makes me very sad. ??? ????
The timeline’s now going to be wonky, since I stopped taking notes when I was at work. I mean, I have to work with these people; I don’t want to show them how weird I am by writing down snarky comments as the game’s going on. Also, I forgot.
-What is up with the A’s relievers? Do Sox pitchers go there after they die?
-Holy shit, Jacoby.
-There were more than a dozen coworkers in the lounge, a few managers, and even a couple director stayed for a few minutes. God, I love baseball.