Angling for Bask
The point of spring training, or spring break, for that matter, is: hope springs eternal. (With spring break, the hope is that one’s sprong sproings eternal.) Hope springs eternal. That means whether you are a Cubs fan, Astros fan, Yankees, Red Sox, or — wait for it — Giants fan, you indulge in hope. You go for the lie. You fall for the bait, the lure. You believe in the shiny bauble that says, “We can win it all.” You’re angling for bask. The ironic thing is, to be honest, I sort of gave up that sort of childish hope years, decades, ago. Sure, sure, we could win it all. But did I really believe that in the spring, in March? Unlikely. And then, when IT happened, TWICE, it was still an infinitely sweet surprise. The double bask made me a believer in this sense: the God (or Goddess) of Surprise still has some tricks up his (her) toga. It could happen again. Despite all odds. It could. Hope springs temporal.