I spent a good deal of time earlier trying to write another post in my series on the 2005 season. For some reason, I just couldn't get the words to flow today.
When I began blogging again three weeks ago, I wondered if I would find enough to write about. The New York Mets are in a sort of limbo right now, along with Major League Baseball, sports in general, and basically life itself. I fill my personal void (and find writing material) by alternating speculating on what the future might hold and looking back to a season 15 years in the past. I've enjoyed it for the most part, and it does help to pass the days, but today it just didn't work for me.
There's a traffic light on a road near my home in Waterbury, Connecticut. The light works on a sensor that is prone to failure. Those who have to deal with the cursed thing regularly understand that if you're sitting there for several minutes and don't get a green, you have to take the law into your own hands. Unfortunately, sometimes there's a line of cars ahead of you, and the vehicle in front is from somewhere else, and doesn't understand the reality of that light.
So you sit there, listening to other cars honking their horns at the poor law-abiding bastard just sitting there, their hands clenching the steering wheel. At the same time, they await permission from that stupid inanimate object that obstinately remains red. When you're sitting in that line behind that person, the minutes tick by, and life just seems to come to a dead stop.
So I was sitting at my desk today, and the words wouldn't come, and it felt like it does when I find myself stuck at the light at the whim of some anonymous driver. Life itself has taken on that stuck-in-limbo reality. We're all waiting for something to happen that none of us really have any control over. For myself today, I just couldn't shake that feeling.
I gave my muse the day off today. I'll go back to 2005 tomorrow. I like revisiting that season quite a lot. Actually, it felt like (and truly was) the beginning of something. There was a better future to look forward to, but there was also a real damn game almost every day that spring and summer. The light was green, and life was moving.
I comfort myself that there will be a normal life again that will include turning on the tv and watching a real live ballgame. I tell myself that Gary, Keith, and Ron will be back. I'll get the chance to see what Pete Alonso's second major league season brings. I'll get to watch deGrom work his magic again. That's what keeps me going.
I know that I'll continue to spend quite a lot of words writing about games gone by and wondering about what needs to happen for the Mets to return as a vibrant and competitive club. Those words will be a placeholder for me, a reminder to myself that those things I love and miss dearly will return someday, including baseball. That light will turn green.
Let's go, Mets.
Stay well. Stay safe. See you tomorrow.
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