Once again, a new year comes round. It's a time when looking back and looking forward comes naturally . We review the past twelve months in all kinds of ways. Columnists and tv news shows present their "best of" lists. Some of us are extra good and gather the data to submit taxes sooner to get that early refund. Others organize photos and other things in real or digital scrapbooks. And a lot of us do the usual resolution dance which, be it about weight, exercise or learning to knit, ends abruptly within a few days or weeks.
This is the season of the Hot Stove League when true baseball fanatics weigh the trades and injuries and last season's stats with the religious fervor of ancient Roman priests examining chicken entrails to know the future. Baseball fans contemplating the upcoming season are like the rest of us, hopeful about the year ahead. Last year's players are joined by new ones. Everyone hopes their team will do well and maybe win it all in a blaze of glory. The empty whiteboard of the next twelve months, we hope, will get filled with all good stuff, whatever that may be.
But take it from an early-on baptized member of Red Sox Nation, hope doesn't always float. Meteoric early won/lost records can reverse in a heartbeat. Stuff happens, predictably. What I can do is enjoy each moment as it comes. Even a ball game with a bad outcome has its moments -- a good hit, a great inning-ending pitching series or a sweet play on the field.
A favorite baseball game image of mine involves one of my grandsons playing tee-ball with other five year olds. When an opposing player hit a fly ball over a group of them clustered around second base, he and his team mates covered their heads with their gloves and let the ball drop harmlessly among them.
May your new year be mostly filled with fly balls you catch. And if you need to, cover your head sometimes for the other ones. There's always next time.
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