It may be fall, but it’s spring training for me.
As my 60th birthday approached, I received the annual email from the New York Mets, asking if I’d be interested in Mets Fantasy Baseball camp. Each time, I’ve wanted to say yes, but my mind has said no. Why? Too expensive, too much time away from work, too selfish.
I haven’t played since I was 15. I’ll make a fool of myself.
This year, I put all of these reasons aside.
YES, as in HELL YES, I’m going!
Some may think I’m crazy. To add to all of the usual reasons, my recent work transition should put this “fantasy” to bed, once and for all. It’s not. I’m even more motivated than before. I have to do this, for me.
This morning, I put up my pitching screen, walked out about 50 feet, with a baseball in my hand. I stood at my imaginary pitching rubber, raised both hands above my head, kicked up my leg (old school motion, just like my idol, Tom Seaver), followed through and threw the ball towards the net. I did this 48 times without pulling a muscle or sustaining any other injury. My arm and hips feel a bit sore, but it’s a good feeling.
I’ll do this every few days until January. If you happen to see me in December at a local snow covered field, throwing a baseball at a net, I haven’t lost my mind.
Matter of fact, I think I’ve found it.