So we're 1-0. Today was opening day -- or so they've lead me to believe. That this is the first playing since my team stole the fire of the gods. Well, so much for tradition. So much for hot dogs. So much for ice cream. So much for opening day.
In any other year, opening day is a proper noun complete with capitalization. But today, with the first pitch coming at 6AM EST live from Japan, there was nothing proper about it. Nothing that reminds me of Opening Day. The time when I used to run home from school or work, smell the hot dogs in the house and watch baseball. Eggs and bacon can't replace hot dogs and ice cream. And a 1-0 record, a win, can't replace this emptiness either. This feeling that I've let down my childhood because I couldn't muster the energy to get up and eat hot dogs and watch baseball before heading off to work. That somewhere, if we are to believe that every moment of time exists at the same time, a little child with a ball and glove and mustard around his lips saddeningly looked at me and this game and this version of opening day across dimensions as we sipped coffee and watch the Red Sox win. Alvin Plantinga might call this Transworld Depravity.
But they tell me this counts. They tell me this is Opening Day.
Transworld Depravity, which is used to prove that it is logical for evil to exist and their still be a good God, has proven something utterly stultifying today. And I'm sorry for that.
In any other year, opening day is a proper noun complete with capitalization. But today, with the first pitch coming at 6AM EST live from Japan, there was nothing proper about it. Nothing that reminds me of Opening Day. The time when I used to run home from school or work, smell the hot dogs in the house and watch baseball. Eggs and bacon can't replace hot dogs and ice cream. And a 1-0 record, a win, can't replace this emptiness either. This feeling that I've let down my childhood because I couldn't muster the energy to get up and eat hot dogs and watch baseball before heading off to work. That somewhere, if we are to believe that every moment of time exists at the same time, a little child with a ball and glove and mustard around his lips saddeningly looked at me and this game and this version of opening day across dimensions as we sipped coffee and watch the Red Sox win. Alvin Plantinga might call this Transworld Depravity.
But they tell me this counts. They tell me this is Opening Day.
Transworld Depravity, which is used to prove that it is logical for evil to exist and their still be a good God, has proven something utterly stultifying today. And I'm sorry for that.
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