Praying to Saint Bryce

I’ve been in a funk lately.

Not the good kind of funk like Prince’s “Housequake” or Rick James’ “Superfreak.”

But the other kind.

Let me put it another way. My mood has been Orange Is the New Black, Season 5, which everyone knows is the darkest of all six seasons.

I haven’t been blogging or doing any other kind of writing. I haven’t been doing much at all, besides watching cooking shows. For some reason, I find them comforting.

The Phillies had their home opener yesterday.

I lit a candle like I do every year and prayed to the baseball gods.

This year, I prayed to Saint Bryce, the saint of the long ball and beautiful hair. W bought me this overpriced Bryce Harper candle the last time we were in the city.

I asked Number 3 to help power the Phillies to a winning season. And also asked for some hair-styling tips. I mean have you seen the magnificent head of hair on this guy?

It is truly glorious, said the envious butch.

What do Bryce Harper’s hair and opening day have in common? Both are magical.

Opening day is a fresh start. With 162 games in front of you, anything is possible.

As I watched the candle burn and stared into Bryce’s intense steel blue eyes, I felt a little lighter and a little brighter.

P.S. I ordered these custom Nike Air Force 1s to match my baby blue Phillies cap with the heather gray brim. They are so beautiful that I cry each time I take them out of the box and hold them.

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Are you a baseball fan? How did your team fare on opening day?

Baseball, Opening Day and fresh starts

It’s perhaps my favorite day of the year. Baseball. Opening Day.

I have a few rituals. I always watch my team, the Fightin’ Phils. And I clean my Phillies shrine and burn a little red candle for good luck. What the hell, it can’t hurt.

Calling on the spirit of Larry Bowa and Dickie Noles …

There’s something magical about Opening Day. It’s a fresh start. Everything starts anew. Zero to zero. Anything can happen.

One of my fondest childhood memories is riding my lime green bike with the banana seat to Mr. Food to buy packs of baseball cards. They cost 15 cents a pack. I would buy as many as I could afford, saving enough money for a pint of Icy Tea in bright orange cartons.

I would sit outside on the curb with my brother and our friends, the summer sun lighting up our faces as we opened our packs and sipped our drinks. Inside the wax wrapper, anything was possible. We shuffled through the cards looking for Phillies players. Steve Carlton, Mike Schmidt, Greg Luzinski. These were gold. After making a few curbside trades, we shoved our stacks of cards in our pockets and pedaled home, our fingers white from the powder-coated sticks of gum.

That’s the thing about an unopened pack of baseball cards. Anything is possible.

That’s the thing about Opening Day. Anything is possible.

It’s funny, but I don’t feel the same excitement today as I have in previous years.

It’s not that the Phillies are pegged to win only 70 some games this year or that the majority of their players are almost as old as me (ok, so maybe not that old).

It’s that I don’t feel the need for a new start these days. Things with W are good. Better than good. Maybe better than ever. And I have my writers’ group and a work in progress. I have so much besides baseball to look forward to.

Most of my life has been spent starting over, wiping the slate clean. Trying again and again and again. Letting go and moving on.

But right now I don’t feel that need. I feel like staying put. Digging my heels in at the plate and swinging for the fences.

If you’re interested, you can read last year’s post on Opening Day here.