Stop teasing me, Connecticut!

Today, it was fifty degrees and pouring rain in Hartford. There's no snow to be found; indeed, there's even green grass. All these things conspire to make me feel like baseball is closer than it truly is, and I'm not a fan.

As of tonight, there are twenty-three days until Spring Training. There are more than two months left until Opening Day [Night?] on April 4th.

I don't know about you guys, but as much as I try to distract myself with basketball, football, and hockey, the reality is that I spend the entire winter counting down the hours until I get to see baseball again. Winter break is a temporary respite, as I can take solace in the MLB Network, but all too soon I have to return to Trinity College and the realm of basic cable.


I got some good baseball books and movies for Christmas, and I received some Red Sox themed games for my birthday, but there's nothing like the real thing. I even stooped to the level of watching Sportscenter's "All Favre, All the Time" coverage for half an hour just to hear the thirty second blurb about Johnny Damon (but that's another post).

The moral of the story? It was rainy and miserable all day, Hartford is trying to trick me, and there's no baseball in sight, so if any of you have any quick cures for the offseason blues, please let me know!

I Dream of Baseball

Today was one of those rare days that desire and opportunity collide. Yes, I took a nap. And it was an awesome nap, complete with confusing dream fragments that you barely remember when you wake up. However, I remember bits and pieces: Daisuke Matsuzaka was involved, and I distinctly remember something about the logistics of VORP.

The man of my dreams... literally. I think I have a problem.

Normally, I forget my dreams so completely that I would doubt I ever had them, except that I learned in Psychology class that everybody dreams, no exceptions. The only thing I could think of upon waking was that if my dreams are always about baseball, I wish I could remember them better. This got me thinking: most people (specifically 19-year-old girls) don't dream of baseball and all of its statistical glory, and I'm willing to bet that if they did, they wouldn't be nearly as excited about it as I am.

Clearly, my subconscious understands that I thirst for baseball discourse in my everyday life, and though my friends humor me occasionally, I never really get to talk about it in any sort of depth (except on Twitter). You would think it would be easy to find people who want to talk baseball, but alas, that's not the case. Most of my friends don't follow it at all, and the rest know the basics (ERA, batting average, etc.); to them, Bill James might as well be that awkward kid in the dining hall who only eats white food.

From April- October (November this year) I survive this by watching baseball, and reading the copious amounts of material written about it. However, in the winter I mostly rely on baseball books, both fiction and nonfiction, for my daily fix. It's an expensive habit, but much cheaper than hiring a therapist to listen to me wax poetic about the value of WHIP and quality starts versus W-L%. However, I'm running out of things to read, and, much like an animal preparing to hibernate, I'm looking for literary suggestions for the bleak months ahead. What's your favorite baseball book? Do you prefer biographies, fiction, or history? Help!