I plan to have a hangover tomorrow morning.
The type of hangover depends completely on how the Mets fare today — Opening Day of baseball season 2012.
If they win, it’ll be that giddy, just-fell-in-love kind of light-headedness.
If they lose, it’ll be your typical one of misery, regret and heartache. The kind we Mets fans are likely to become accustomed to game after game this year.
Sports prognosticators almost universally have picked my Mets to finish dead last in 2012. And not in an endearingly inept manner, as their inaugural team of has-beens and never-would-bes were 50 years ago under the guidance of the legendary Casey Stengel, who was known to nod off in the dugout. No – they are expected to land in the cellar with the loud, ugly thud of sub-mediocrity.
So, Ye Baseball Gods above, today we supporters of the Orange and Blue pray …
Give us a spectacularly sunny and warm spring day.
Give us a short line at the CitiField Shake Shack or, at the least, all the hot dogs and beer our bellies can stand.
Give us, on this one sacred day, nine innings of hope and a happy recap.
And today, for me, give my little family one more time together in the stands root, root, rootin’ for the home team, win or lose.
And with that, the “Always Home and Uncool” offices are closed for a glorious national holiday.
Today you'll dig in the closet for your glove and snap a ball into it while sipping your morning coffee.
Today as the toast comes out of the toaster, you'll still remember how to execute a perfect "pop-up" slide.
Today you'll drive to work and admonish yourself to "keep your head down" and your eye on the road.
Today your team will be in first and planning to stay there.
Today you'll end your contract holdout.
Today you'll still be able to turn the double play.
Today you won't lose a business deal in the sun.
Today you'll find yourself rotating your arm around your head to stretch the shoulder and keep it loose.
Today someone asks if you'll be at the meeting and you respond by saying, "Let's play two."
Today you spend an hour in the attic with old baseball cards and dusty Sports Illustrateds.
Today sunflower seeds strangely find their way into your back pocket.
Today you find yourself muttering something about "Bill freakin' Buckner."
Today you'll think of wearing a black suit to match the eye black.
Today you'll have the steal sign.
Today you slip up in a meeting and mention "our sales team ... vs. lefties."
Today a hot dog and peanuts for lunch will sound about right.
Today you tell a co-worker to "warm up."
Today the only strike you'll know about is above the knees and below the armpits.
Today you'll wear your jacket only on your pitching arm.
Today you'll buy two packs of gum and stuff them in the side of your mouth.
Today, during lunch, you'll wonder why Coke doesn't come in a wood can.
Today you'll scratch yourself and spit for no apparent reason.
Today you'll wonder why stirrup socks never caught on.
Today you'll be the rookie looking to make it big.
Today you'll be the wily vet with just a little something left.
Today you'll look for the AM dial on your radio.
Today your glove is hanging off the handlebars of your bike.
Today seems like a good day for an ice cream before you head home.
Today is box scores and "Baseball Tonight."
Today is Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds.
Today your first coach is cheering. Still.
Today mom's watching.
Today dad's in the backyard -- with his glove.
Today it'll still be a kids' game.
Today you'll be a kid.
Today is Opening Day.
Poem: “Today” -- By Greg Shea, Copyright © 2000 The Closer
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