To be 12 years old again

Regular readers of this column know that I love a few things and people above all others: My wife, my family, Carroll County, this newspaper. And Cubs baseball.

Yep, it’s that time of year again. It’s the time of year when Cubs fans are optimistic about the season ahead, even when we know that’s not a realistic outlook.

So that’s where I find myself again this spring, knowing that it’s still very early in the Cubs’ rebuilding process but still kidding myself that if the offense can be as productive as last season and the pitching can somehow exceed expectations, just maybe there’s a chance. In my heart of hearts, I know better. But it’s nice to dream, if only for the first few weeks of the season.

I know some of you are groaning right now about what you perceive as a waste of space. But I don’t think anyone can fairly say that I don’t often use this space to discuss more serious matters, so indulge me.

We have plenty of serious issues to ponder right now, sure. There’s national politics and even international politics — inflation at home and war in Ukraine. There’s state politics — rising gas prices at the same time the state coffers are overflowing with surplus revenue. And there’s all the drama right here in Carroll County, with the continued dysfunction of the Eureka Springs city government and so many candidates running for state senator, sheriff and county judge that it’s hard for me to keep up with all of them — and I get paid to keep up with them.

So, forgive me if every now and then I like to disconnect from all that and reconnect with simpler times. That’s what being a Cubs fan really is to me — a chance to feel like that 12-year-old boy who discovered day games at Wrigley Field on summer-afternoon cable television.

So many things have changed since those days 40-plus years ago. Even the game itself has changed, in many ways. But in a lot of ways, the experience for me is still the same.

After a long, hard day or week at the office, it’s nice sometimes to just turn on the game, settle back in my recliner and feel like a 12-year-old boy again. And, for right now at least, we’re only a half-game out of first place.