New Year’s resolutions generally stink.
All good intentions to get healthy, go running, or eat better go out the window when a foot of snow covers your car, knocks out your power, but you still have to go to work.
You know it. I know it.
(There’s no resolution in the world strong enough to keep me from a piece of chocolate or a Diet Mountain Dew.)
Oh, look, Stevie’s a Dewbie, too!
If pressed, my New Year’s resolution is pretty simple – make it to 2015 and write on here from time to time. Because I love writing stuff for you. Really. Both of you. You’re both wonderful and incredibly good looking.
In the spirit of New Year’s let me tell you two honest things about me:
1) I cannot snap my fingers. I really can’t. It’s not that I choose not to. I would snap all day. If only I could. (There. Just tried again. Still can’t.)
(Editor/Husband says I snap my fingers like a second-grader. A paste-eating second-grader. I’m not proud of this.)
2) The only New Year’s resolution I ever kept was years ago when I worked in an office. I used to needle a colleague all the time. (She was a very nice person, but she didn’t know who R.E.M. was, for god’s sake, how could I not needle her? I was in a very sarcastic phase of my life. I know, so glad that’s passed.)
So, for New Year’s I promised her that for an entire year I was going to be nice to her. And, I was. I was so nice, fawning over her and always asking how her day was going (often interrupting her several times an hour just to ask), that I proved to be an incredibly annoying nice person. Imagine that!
Lisa became a successful – and very nice – lawyer. I write a blog with two readers. So, as you can see, sarcasm gets you nowhere, kids.
While I see the timely need to lard up this blog with some resolution jabber, it being a new year and all, you’ve probably already realized that I’m not really the best person to go to for advice or encouragement.
Unless you happen to own the Baltimore Orioles. Here are some resolutions for you, Mr. Angelos.
First off, get us some pitching. Spend some money … you can’t take it with you and you’re not getting any younger. You can never fully redeem yourself in my eyes after trading Jim Johnson, but you can make amends.
Let’s start with a Starter, ok? I mean, a real Starting Pitcher – a mean-as-cuss, ace-of-the-team alley cat who throws both fire and finesse.
A pitcher who understands that his day doesn’t end with the words “he was roughed up, again, in the fifth inning.” A pitcher who strives for “27 outs” … in a single game, not in a month.
Mountain Lion and Dr. Perky are cheap.
He won’t be.
At the risk of seeming greedy, pony up for another bat in the lineup and maybe a strong bullpen arm to replace the one you so callously and cruelly threw away. (It may be a new year, but I’m not over this Jim Johnson thing yet.)
In short, Mr. A, let’s spend some real dough so that the rest of baseball will stop thinking we’re the class weirdos.
# # #
So, you know how this blog is supposed to be about baseball and Yoga and life? And, how I talk a good game (always aiming for the bleachers) but rarely wrap them all up together? I feel bad about that.
Let’s fix things.
Earlier this year, I came upon four particularly useful rules. Or, resolutions. Call them what you like.
They were posted by a pitcher above his locker.
I love these rules. They are good reminders for a pitcher. They are good reminders for a Yoga student. They are good reminders for life.
Here they are.
~ Go 0-1. Must have action. Early is my friend.
~ Get the ball down. Strikes below the knees.
~ Manage the game. Slow down. Break a bad rhythm.
~ Take your time between pitches. Take a time out and reset.
That’s baseball talk, for this: Start 0-1. Throw a strike. Be confident.
Be in control.
Take charge and responsibility for your actions. If you’re being a doofus, change.
And, always step off the mound and take the time you need to think things through when feeling pressured or else you may do something really, really stupid.
Which in Yoga I boil down to that one simple, most important resolution of all …
Don’t forget to breathe.
Sounds good to me. Let’s do this.