I couldn’t help but notice how little fanfare Easter Sunday had this year, and it made me think about how reared up I used to get over the inevitability of oodles of candy on Easter Eve, barely sleeping in anticipation of what The Bunny was going to bring me. Chocolate has never really been my thing, but I have distinct memories of coveting Cadbury Cream Eggs, which just looked delicious on TV (remember the clucking rabbit?) but as I’d find out as an adult, are essentially like eating three pounds of solid fudge and caramel.
Anyway, with the thunder stripped from the big spring childhood holiday, I have to find my adult excitement in other avenues. Like the start of baseball season.
Sports have unofficially become the new Christmas/Easter for me, as I lose more sleep the nigh before the White Sox opening day or the night before the NBA draft than I do on December 24th or June 15th (the night before my birthday). What were once important “me” days have gone from being uber-exciting to being about as entertaining as watching a ceiling fan make its turns.
So my “me” days come in the form of White Sox and Bulls games these days, with by Bullies making a strong push for a high playoff seed, and the Sox getting off the ground in the league’s toughest division to try and make me as happy as they did two years ago when they won The Series. (You’ll notice the Bears are absent from my happy time list right now because I’m refusing to have even one football conversation before the draft. I need time to heal.)
The problem with baseball season starting in April is that it makes me antsy for the summer, even though the summer is still two months away for me. I suppose that’s better than all of you out there who are still working from June to August, but try and sympathize here for a minute.
Baseball season also brings to mind the Benedict Arnold I once knew as my sister, Jenna, who since attending DePaul and moving about a mile north of Wrigley Field on Sheridan Avenue, has shunned everything we Brighams stand for and aligned with Cubs Nation. It’s worse than when Nina on “24” turned out to be bad and betrayed Jack Bauer, but then Jack later kept having to face her anyway. My sister is a Cubs fan, and it breaks my heart, but what can you do?
The sad thing is that the Cubs might actually have a better shot at making the playoffs this year than the White Sox do. Where the Sox play in a freakishly difficult division, the Cubs’ is the most posh in the majors. New management, tons of money spent, and a removal from under the thumb of the Tribune Company all will do that team well. Which pisses me off.
Meanwhile, the Sox are off to a 2-3 start and are as frustrating as ever. That’s the thing with sports—they bring you up, then they tear you down. I don’t remember Santa Claus ever doing that, but I suppose that’s kind of how sugar highs work on Easter Morning. See, baseball is like the holidays!