There’s just something about baseball that soothes my soul.
Teaching is hard. Like, actually hard. Some days, everything that can go wrong does—kids acting like they were raised in barns, adults in matching bad moods, the copier jammed for the eleventh time this week (I know it's plotting against me), and the day feels like it’s stuck in some cruel time loop.
And when that kind of day ends? I go home. I pour myself a glass of wine. I kick off my shoes, prop my feet on the couch, and turn on MLB TV.
And suddenly... everything is okay.
The Sox are on. The crowd is buzzing. The grass is perfectly contoured, the baselines are bright and crisp, and the camera pans across a field that somehow looks like peace in visual form. I find myself smiling. I remember how to breathe.
It’s almost meditative—my version of Zen. The world may be loud, messy, and completely off the rails, but here, in this moment, Crochet is throwing 95 mph fastballs and all is right with the world. School, with its infinite noise and unpredictable chaos, feels a million miles away.
Baseball doesn’t fix everything. But on nights like this, it sure comes close.
I thank my friends Dave and Sue from the bottom of my heart for this gift. They have no idea how much my sanity depends on baseball!
Or maybe they do.
