These are the weeks
that try my soul, from the end of SoxFest to the start of spring training in
mid-February. It’s all football and golf
for as far as the eye can see. Short of
a blockbuster trade, the sale of the team or the implosion of Guaranteed Rate
Whatever, the White Sox will cease to exist on sports’ media until pitchers and
catchers report to Arizona. So, right
now the seconds are minutes, the minutes hours, the hours days, the days a
visit to the dentist.
The trick, I’ve
learned, is not to get ahead of yourself; just let the time crawl along as it wants. And take heart from such signposts as the
Super Bowl; the Chicago Auto Show; Fat Tuesday; Ash Wednesday; and whatever PGA
tournaments are happening the next two weekends. (Is it me, or does every approach shot look
the same? Do golf fans feel the same
about every homerun? In which case, I
don’t care). By the time of the Daytona
500, Michael Koepech will be trying to hit 100 mph on the speed gun.
Right now, I just want
to make it to Thursday, February 1st. That’s when I’ll treat myself to a visit to
the Strat-O-Matic website to see what if any classic season they’re doing in
addition to last year. That’s three days
from now, times visits to the dentist.
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