Tag Archives: catchers

Happy Groundhog’s Day!

Do you know why they have to drag poor old Punxatawny Phil out of his lair every year? It’s because he knows that the beginning of spring isn’t tied at all to whether or not he sees his shadow. Like all intelligent creatures, he realizes that spring begins the day that pitchers and catchers report for spring training.

groundhog-enorme-toute-grosse-253x300Seeing as that event is inevitable and preordained by powers other than himself, he’d just as soon stay tucked up in a cozy ball of rodenty slumber. Who wouldn’t?

But those nasty men in top hats and weird coats nevertheless haul him out by the scruff of his neck to stage their little weather charade. You can tell from their antiquated dress that even they recognize, in their heart of hearts, that the whole thing is a sham: meaningless, outdated, and entirely superseded by the National Pastime.

And don’t fall for any of that vernal equinox nonsense, either. Regardless of where the planet is or what angle the sun is at, spring begins on the day when pitchers and catchers report, which this year falls on February 11. I mean, come on: they don’t call it winter training — it’s SPRING training. Ergo, it must be spring.

So the next time you find yourself wondering when spring will begin, don’t go dragging any large rodents out of their dens. Just check the baseball calendar.

Off-the-cuff poetry

I’ve been taking a poetry writing class, which is in part why I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve been reading and writing and going to class, and that hasn’t left me time to tend the blog. (Sorry!)

One of the class assignments is to respond to daily prompts. Because of my schedule, these tend to be dashed off in half an hour or so, which has been very fun and freeing. It doesn’t necessarily lend itself to great poetry, but it most certainly is great practice.

Here’s what I wrote in response to the prompt “perfect”:

Pitch perfect

the mitt rests against his thigh
throwing arm loose at his side
he lowers his head, blocks the batter
with the bill of his cap
signals flash between the catcher’s knees until
he looks away and brings
the mitt to his chest
his fingers find the seams, wrap
around the ball as he goes
into his motion and delivers
the perfect pitch

 

(By the way, spring begins in only TEN DAYS with the four most beautiful words in the English language: “Pitchers and catchers report.”)