I like tradition and ritual.  There is something very comforting about it.  When an event falls around a specific time of year you’re instantly transported into a great mood.  I used to never exude my holiday spirit until I saw the Mighty Mighty Bosstones at their Hometown Throwdown.  That’s been replaced by hitting the North End with my Zia for some panetone and proscuitto.  Nothing puts me in a bad mood after that.  I soak it all in and enter the zone.  I will always be the same little boy who woke up one Christmas morning to find Castle Greyskull under the tree. 

Well it’s always been a tradition to transcend into a state of schoolboy giddiness when that equipment truck leaves Fenway Park and heads down south to Florida.  It’s not the sight of the truck itself or the words expressed by the media who all jump on the bandwagon with their “It’s just a truck” rant, but rather it’s the connection with the time of year.  Pitchers and catchers report this weekend and that signifies Spring for me.  I don’t care if we are hit with 30 inches of snow, because it will melt in less than a week.  That’s the power of Spring.  Warm weather is right around the corner.  Once I hear the sizzle of a fastball and subsequent slap of the leather when it hits the catcher’s mitt I’m in a mood so good that it cannot be broken.

I remember watching numerous Spring Training games with my father during family gatherings from Sunday's past.  I can still hear Ned Martin and Bob Montgomery as well as their heir apparent crew of Sean McDonough and Jerry Remy. Remember when NESN never covered those games?  Good ol Channel 38 will always hold a soft spot in my heart. 

Your favorite players may have been in the game for an inning or two, but Spring Training gives you guys to root for.  Those players who you have never heard of or are waiting their turn to make the leap to the Big Club.  I’m excited to get behind Dustin Pedroia and Craig Hansen.  Sure, they’ll probably start off in Pawtucket, but I’m hoping they make that decision really tough on Tito and Theo.  Who’s not excited about seeing if Gabe Kapler can return from that horrible injury?  I’m also ready to start pulling and praying for Keith Foulke.  Our local fear mongers in the media forget what he did to bring that trophy to us.  The memory lapse makes me cheer louder for him.  They also turn a blind eye to the fact that he has two surgically repaired knees.  I don’t recall Foulke using that excuse ever.  He always accepted responsibility when he stunk up the joint and for that he deserves our support.  I want him to be the feel good story of the summer.   

These games serve no purpose.  They are laid back and borderline boring, but that’s the best part, because it’s training for your emotions as well.  We’ve got 162 games to go bonkers over.  You sit back, watch a couple of innings, and go on about your day.  For me, my father is no longer with us and this time forces me to think extra hard about him and focus on the good times we used to have together.  These memories remind me why I love baseball so much. 

It’s 50 degrees out today.  Nothing, aside from the sight of that bus, puts you in a better mood in the middle of February than unseasonably warm weather.  If there weren’t any snow you could see the grass stretching out and sending its sweet scent towards your nose.  To quote Dickie Barrett from Throwdown’s past “It’s that time of year again!”