March 1

 

Let me start with an apology to my son.

I'm so glad February is over.

Sorry, Sean. I know that's your birthday month but those are 28 (or 29) long days of the depths of winter and minimal sports. 

However, I have a love/hate thing with March.

I love the promise of spring as it approaches.

I hate the unpredictability of the month and can feel impatient with it -- especially as the temperatures remain cold and the March snowstorms come around.

I love that we're that close to March Madness and baseball.

I hate that it's normally around the middle of the month before March Madness begins and the barrage of spring training baseball games features mostly unheard of players.

I love how we're starting to feel alive.

I hate the days that remind me of loved ones lost, with the target of course on the 17th.

As for the 17th itself? That's its own special love/hate with the whole "everyone is Irish" approach that has its own stereotype attached to it that nobody seems to complain about.

I took a different approach to March last year, opting to not worry about it.

Of course, March 2020 was its own unforgettable world, with a worldwide pandemic shutting us down.

So, come March 17th, I was sitting home watching "The Quiet Man" for probably the first time in 30 years.

That was the movie my father was watching when he died. Yet, in 2020, I didn't write much about him or that.

Like the weather, I can't predict any of this. I can't predict how my brain will process things. I try sometimes but it doesn't work. I promise myself that I won't do or feel things but stuff happens.

March 1st came in like the lion, originally with five podcasting recording sessions, along with "Doubleheader." Instead, it came in hot with three podcast sessions and a basketball game (or two, you never know with me). One podcast is now set for tomorrow night and the other is Wednesday.

My schedule is bonkers and I'm just trying to juggle it. Isn't that fitting? Juggle it all. Survive today and get to tomorrow.

And so, we hit March, seeing the glass as half-full. Seeing it as part of the process of getting to warmer temperatures and spring sports. We see it as the clothes gradually getting lighter and the days getting brighter. We'll honor the losses quietly but a story could prompt some writing.

Like I said, it's unpredictable.

There are 65 days until first pitch.

(Tonight's game between Notre Dame of West Haven and Fairfield Prep can be heard here.)