The Boys of Summer

I'm packing my truck following my work here in Massachusetts. It's been a long summer. The sun was hot and the hours were long and as I fold my last white shirt, place it in my duffel bag and walk outside to put the last bag in the truck. I cant help but notice the angle of the sun is different. The trees are slowly changing color and returning to the whispiness they had when I first came up here in early May. There is always a cycle in life, or as Elton John and Tim Rice called it, a Circle of Life. I circle back next week to Florida where it's hot and we don't have a change of season, so I enjoy breathing in the crisp air and seeing the sun set earlier as the rains of Autumn arrive.

I drove over to my local, favourite restarant and sat at the bar reflecting on a summer gone. It was a rainy night here but Fenway was dry and the game was heading into the sixth inning. I always relish my first night back here in Massachusetts in early May and turning on NESN, the local sports channel, to watch the Sox. I grew up as a Yankees fan in a small New York State town tucked up next to Connecticut. I played my nextdoor neighbor in the back yard for years with a whiffle ball and bat as we both ran through the Yankees batting order. Thurman Munson was my man and I remember watching Bucky Dent hitting that homer over the Green Monster on that September day in 1978. But, as I am nearing my tenth year of migrating to New England for work in the summers, I find myself following and routing for the Sox. I can't say the same for Belichick, Brady and the Pats, but perhaps that is because I am not here but for a few weeks at the start of the NFL season.

I watch as David Price winds up and throws another pitch and I reflect that the baseball season in almost over... or is it? These guys have another whole week to play the regular season. The Sox have clinched the AL East and will be heading into the post season. Then I think: These guys were already 6 weeks into the season when I arrived, and I'm tired? They must be exhausted.

It made me think of my father-in-law's reaction when one summer he came to visit and I would put on the Sox when I got home from work. "Do these guys play every night?" he asked. I remember my answer: "Basically, yes."

I am not a huge baseball fan. I can't tell you who's winning the AL West. But when I get up here and it's on the tube, well, it's kind of a sign for me that it's summer. I follow the Sox early in May and into June. Then my book gets scheduled up and I get home at night exhausted from a day of teaching and fighting fires. I still put the game on in the background as I cook a meal in my rented accomodation. I will hear the announcer raise his voice as I speak with my family back in Florida. But the Sox and baseball is a rite of summer and they are part of my summer here. They are indeed the Boys of Summer for me. I was aware of the great first half of the year they had, but by the All-Star break I am in full swing and I lose touch of the disabled list and the pitching rotation. But, I still have them on in the background.

Like everything, the summer circles back, and as my hours on court slow and the fires dissipate with members moving back to Boston and juniors heading back to the local schools, I once again have time to reconnect. And as I sit here watching David Price I realize that they are still playing. Here I am packing and they still have a week just to finish the regular season. The Yankees will finish here in Fenway on the 30th of September. I will be somewhere in South Carolina on I95. And the Sox started a day before my birthday way back on March 29th.

That's a six month season, not including Spring Training. Add a month for post season. So players really get just three months off to enjoy their families and homes for which they work so hard. I feel lucky. I get 6.5 months of rest and relaxation. I know most players from MLB through to the AAA Leagues and such only play for a few years of their life. But it must be a grind. With 162 games just in the regular season per team, I can't imagine what their bodies feel like heading into October. I know mine is broken and my season is shorter. I can't imagine what it feels like to start the earliest ever that the Majors have started in history - albeit due to rest days mandated by the players union - and finish on a Sunday late in September, that is if no post season beckons.

In my industry we call it the 100 day war - the New England summer season for golf, tennis, boating... the outdoors. No days off, alarm clock ringing at 5.45am every day. That's the summer, basically Memorial Day to Labor Day and maybe a week more on each side. But the Boys of Summer, the Red Sox and all those on the diamond, they play for a lot longer than just the summer.

The equinox passed me by last week as I finished up a busy season and was planning changes for Summer 2019. I emptied tennis ball hoppers and packed the old balls ready to be used by the Junior High School in town. I fixed a sprinkler head for the last time and strung my last remaining racquet. I did happen to notice a few leaves falling the morning after the equinox and that the sun was a bit lower on the horizon through the filtering trees. The dampness on the pavement outside my driveway here on the South Coast of Massachusetts looked like it was here to stay for a few months. But David Price was still digging his toe into the mound.

Ed Shanaphy is President of Beyondthebaselines.com and a Director of Tennis. He is a graduate of the London School of Economics and Duke University.