Every day is the same now. Read a little. Work a little. Exercise. Work some more. Make dinner. Watch a movie or binge a show.

If you’re like me, you know this is all necessary to flatten the coronavirus curve. If you’re like me, you’re also starting to realize how much minutia of typical daily life you miss. The stuff you took for granted would now be a welcome distraction.

I miss over-analyzing every early season Boston Red Sox game. I miss leaving the game on as background noise or a placeholder until something else comes on.

I miss watching the highlight shows on the MLB Network. I miss the cut ins to games in progress just to see Mike Trout hit or Max Scherzer pitch.

I miss waking up every morning and immediately checking to see how my fantasy baseball team did the night before. I miss making a roster move or two that I hope pays off at the end of the season. A few more home runs, a few more strikeouts, and maybe a few more bucks in my pocket when I win the league.

It’s been so long since I won a fantasy baseball league I’ve forgotten what it feels like, so I can’t miss it.

I miss agonizing over my NCAA tournament bracket during the first two rounds. I miss taking every loss in my bracket as a personal attack. I miss cheering for a school just for the sake of my bracket. I miss being a bracket alumni of some school for a couple hours, then moving on to the next school in the next game.

I miss rooting for the University of North Carolina in the NCAA tournament, regardless what it does to my bracket. This is not specific to the pandemic cancellations. The Tar Heels had a dreadful season by their standards and were not going to make the tournament had it been held. Genius move, really. You can’t miss the tournament if they don’t play it.

I miss the bustle of my newsroom, how it can get loud when all the reporters are in there working at the same time. I miss how quiet my newsroom gets when I’m the only person there.

I miss asking high school baseball and softball coaches, “How close is your field to being playable?” I miss driving by those fields to see for myself.

I miss wondering if David Pastrnak would get to 60 goals this season.

I miss watching a young Boston Celtics team go through the ups and downs of learning to play together, but by and large continue to improve.

I miss the Bruins and Celtics fighting for playoff position.

I don’t miss Tom Brady yet, in part because the start of the NFL season is still at least five months away and in part because with nothing else going on, the dude is on my television and social media feeds every single day. I miss not giving a fig about the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

I miss watching golf and the buildup to The Masters.

I miss the tinge of nausea and utter disgust I was going to feel when I saw Mookie Betts play in a regular season game for the Los Angeles Dodgers for the first time. I suppose I shouldn’t miss this, because I know it’s coming eventually.

I miss freezing my butt off covering a Colby baseball game at night in March and flexing my fingers in a futile attempt to keep them warm.

I miss writing a column in a coffee shop while I listen to music, usually Pearl Jam or the Tragically Hip. I still have the coffee and music, but no shop. Just my living room.

I miss second-guessing the manager. All the managers.

I miss a simple handshake.

I miss box scores.

I miss it all.

 

Travis Lazarczyk — 861-9242

tlazarczyk@centralmaine.com

Twitter: @TLazarczykMTM

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