Tuesday night was my first REALLY lonely night without you. While I watched my favorite baseball team (the Baltimore Orioles) play an exciting 11 inning game against the Toronto Blue Jays, I realized just how much I missed you. There was no excitement about the game. It was one of 162, but barring a miracle it was one of 162 that just don’t matter.
It’s the biggest difference between what MLB gives me and what you give me. Everytime you play a game it feels like it matters. Unless I want to turn my back on the O’s in favor of the New York Yankees, Boston Red Sox or Tampa Bay Rays, it’s hard to imagine when the next time I’ll be able to really enjoy a baseball game that matters.
You’re my true love. You know that. I’ve avoided telling you that you’re taking advantage of me because I don’t want to anger you, but it’s started to feel that way.
I’ve heard what sounds like good news. I’ve heard that you’ve been hanging out on the Eastern Shore and you’re thinking about coming back into my life. I hope you’re serious, because I couldn’t take the heartbreak if you teased me like this and then disappeared again.
I don’t want to write sappy love letters to you. I want to instead write about whether or not Ray Edwards would be a good fit in Charm City or why the team can survive without having picked up Nnamdi Asomugha. I want to write about which undrafted free agents have an outside chance at cracking the 53 man roster or whether or not Tyrod Taylor is a better backup QB option than signing someone like Chad Pennington.
I want that life back. I want you back in my life.
Whatever you still need to figure out, please take care of it as soon as possible. Please don’t play with my heart any more. Please don’t lead me to believe your return is imminent only to push me away.
Our breakup has been short, but it’s finally starting to become painful.
Please just let it all be okay again soon.