There really isn't an "offseason" for Red Sox fans, but just a period when games are played or not played. Today we begin the abrupt, though not unwelcome, transition into the "hot stove" period …
Our honeymoon with God is ovah.
Drive thru the T.W. Tunnel across narrow evah-dahkening roads, a bandwagon bus packed with rollicking ids, bumping ovah the countryside, seeking pitchahs, seeking hittahs …
Evah hopeful fanatics freezing our shadows off round a puny fiah, we get hunched ovah numbahs crunched …
Waiting, watching, hoping, Theo with more control and a pile of dough?
The sky opens its accordion pleats and it's the New Year, but we haven't escaped anything, in fact, we nevah wanted to.
Suddenly it's "Truck Day" and we barely have time to say good-bye or wish ourselves luck.
Most of today's lines are cribbed in one fashion or another from from Philip Schultz's poem "untitled, number 63 in the sequence" from Living in the Past.
The title of today's strip is a riff on the Schultz's title as well, for this is the 434th Soxaholix strip since the beginning in April 2004. Originally, I was just going to grab the title, but then a couple lines from the poem seemed to fit the notion of transitioning into the hot stove season and how quickly, despite the dreariness of late winter, the 100 days between now and Spring Training goes by. Also was trying to get at, by way of the title, the ongoing nature of our Red Sox fan passion. It doesn't end when the team wins, nor does it end when they lose. It's and endless loop, season to season, generation to generation.
I bumped into this poem from reading Robert Pinsky's always interesting weekly column "Poet's Choice." If you have even a passing interest in poetry, I highly recommend checking out Pinsky's column regularly. It's just short enough that you won't feel overwhelemed, and you'll most certainly learn something new from Pinksy.