This (That) Thursday Without Baseball: An Open Letter

This That Thursday without baseball, you are not a nice day. You do not excite, incite, or inspire. You are cold and empty and devoid of meaning. The wind howls through vacant stadia. The green grass grows long and turns brown. The sportsmen toss in bed, anxious and unable to sleep. The writers sit isolate with blank pages mocking. This That Thursday without baseball, you are a bastard.

I suppose there are silver linings to your existence, this that Thursday without baseball. I’ve further committed myself to my job, giving me a sense of pride and purpose heretofore absent in my daily life. I’ve taken up the hobby of jogging in the interests of physical fitness and well being. I’ve spoken to my wife and loved ones for the first time since April. My fantasy baseball team remains firmly entrenched in first place. These are all happy and positive consequences of you, this that Thursday without baseball. You’ve shown me a life that up to this point has only been theoretical, only imagined.

And still, I hate you, this that Thursday without baseball. The reason is so simple, so obvious, need I even say it? There is was no baseball today yesterday. This That is was the second day that this has had been so. In years past, this that Thursday without baseball, you would not have even existed, for you are extra, you are excess. You’ve been forced upon us for some strange reason we do not care to investigate nor understand. It is enough that you are here and you are real and we are powerless to stop you, for you are time and men are powerless against time. You are time but you are unwanted. And you shall pass.

So what are we left with, this that Thursday without baseball? Transactional speculation. The analysis of a half-finished product. Useless, distracting things that we clamor to with enthusiasm for there are no alternatives to even consider. Justin Upton. The Boston Red Sox. Zack Greinke. The Los Angeles Angels. Cole Hamels. The Los Angeles Dodgers. Carlos Quentin. The Baltimore Orioles. Houston Street. The Washington Nationals. Edwin Encarnación? The Pittsburgh Pirates? This is what we are left with. These are the men and collections of men that we discuss. These men and collections of men were meant to play baseball, and they are not playing that which they were meant to play. This is your doing, this that Thursday without baseball. This is your fault.

We shall cheer when you expire. We shall exult in your passing. Your moment is now was then, this that Thursday without baseball, but the seconds tick and the hands of clocks move and soon now you will better understand, fully appreciate, know in absolute the pain we feel now felt then.

Kyle writes baseball nonsense at The Trance of Waiting. You can follow him on Twitter @AgainstKyle.