My brain typically works in metaphors, oftentimes sports-related, other times fairy tales or sci-fi plots … the usual. I can connect almost any life situation to an episode of “Community” or (more recently) a Queen song.
I like connections, symbolism, finding hidden meanings, surprise jokes. I’m better at math the more abstract it is. (For instance, I aced algebra through calculus, but I can’t make change on the spot at all whatsoever.)
Anyway, when I started this blog and chose a name, I realized it was a pun, and I liked it because it gave me a cushion, a little room to play around.
I would physically go to ballparks, but I could kind of talk about anything because I could relate almost any topic and claim it’s “in the ballpark.” Nothing needed to be exact because I’d just be “ballparking it.”
I’m disappointed it took me over a year to figure out the real metaphor.
I recently spent a week battling allergies (or a cold?) that hit all the usual stages – sore throat, uncontrollable sneezing, runny nose, congestion and uncontrollable coughing (the stage I’m in as I type this). My living room is a mess, and so are my kitchen and bedroom. I feel like I’ve lost a week to this surprise sinus misadventure.
The idea of my trashed apartment, Rudolphian nose and the ever-changing pressure in my head (which reminds me of a Queen song) got me thinking. This week didn’t go as planned, but hey, that’s life.
This led to another thought – how neglected my blog has been. Part of it has been actual busyness and legitimate excuses, and part of it is how indecisive I am and that I would rather watch a television show or baseball game than commit to what I want to say and publish it.
And that thought led me one step further. No matter how much planning, plotting or daydreaming goes into a project, we all kind of (educatedly) guess and check our way through life to some degree. Sometimes the result is what we imagined, and sometimes it isn’t.
We’re all just kind of ballparking it.
I thought Ballparking It was a symbol and celebration of turning 30 and starting a new chapter, and it is, but maybe that’s secondary. It turns out, I’ve been “ballparking it” since 1988, and my baseball road trips are no exception.
I got rained on at my first ballpark, threw up before the Brewers game, made what seemed like every wrong turn trying to get to Target Field, found out I don’t understand roundabouts at all, did the Mall of America with a next-level migraine and have revised my year two ballpark itinerary probably more times than I even remember right now.
Did I quit? No. I popped open an umbrella, rallied with a ballpark baked potato, found the Target Field parking lot, made it out of each and every roundabout I entered, discovered just how soothing the Mall of America Ninja Turtles ride can be and fully intend to visit multiple ballparks this year.
Sometimes you put your hand in bird poop at the Ozzie Smith statue, and you know what? That’s OK. You can wash it off at Ballpark Village.
(This is literally what I did the night before the 2018 PGA Championship.)
Birds poop. (And that is not a commentary on any Cardinals losing trend, but it could be.) Does that mean they poop all over your dreams and you give up if something isn’t quite how you’d guessed it would be? Nope. You just keep ballparking it.
Maybe I accidentally (on purpose) get months (or a year) behind on posts. Maybe I’d rather rank songs or write about a TV show one day than recap a ballpark. Maybe I realize I’m more of a vacationer than a traveler. Maybe the Cardinals lay a big fat turd in the month of May. (Birds do poop, remember?)
If any of these not-so-hypothetical situations come up, I can just roll up my sleeves, rinse my hands, write the posts I want to write and enjoy (and hope the Cardinals have a better June).
Yes, I’m literally visiting 30 ballparks for turning 30, but no matter how old I am, like every other human, I’ll always be ballparking it.
That’s what this blog is, not a travel blog and not just the next chapter, but all the bird poop, random thoughts and roundabouts along the way.