Diary of a baseball widow

It's baseball season. That much is clear in THIS household. On Sunday, when the Braves and Phillies met for the first game of the 2009 season, Tim walked around wishing me, Mario and Sidney a "Happy Baseball Day!" Several times. Each.

On Monday, Tim got up early and worked out before the baseball games started for the day. On Wednesday, we planned our day around the Reds 7:10 start. And really, I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. I love baseball. I grew up with baseball. And I've known Tim for six baseball seasons. We've traveled to see the Reds play the Marlins in Miami every year. We are planning a vacation in California this August when - you guessed it - the Reds are playing out there.

It's just become VERY apparent to me how baseball season is going to go now that I actually LIVE with Tim. Last baseball season, he would stay at home to watch games instead of come up to my apartment in St. Pete because he had the Extra Innings cable package - where he gets to watch virtually every game every day. Now, I live in the home where we have that same MLB package. If I want to have a conversation with him about anything not related to the Reds or baseball in general, I need to do it before the games start for the day. I've gotten a taste of this over the last few years during football season, but that's 16 days. That's manageable. This is 162 games, people. Tim assures me he'll be disenchanted with the Reds by the end of May, but I don't buy it.

I should have realized just how serious he was about baseball a few months ago. It must have been late December, and I was getting ready for bed. Tim came in to the bedroom looking about as serious as I've ever seen him and told me he was worried. I thought "Is he worried about our marriage? His health? Our finances? Our jobs?" I said, "What are you worried about?" He sat down, looked at me with a grim face and said "I'm worried about Adam Dunn."

Adam Dunn. The former Reds slugger who played with the Diamondbacks in the 2008 season and was left without a contract over the winter. Adam Dunn, who makes millions of dollars playing baseball. Finally, when Dunn was signed (to a $20 million contract) by the Nationals, Tim was a little bit relieved. But not entirely. He didn't think the Nationals were paying Dunn enough. And it still apparently keeps Tim up at night, as he asked me last week if *I* was as worried about Dunn's performance so far as he is (because, you know, Dunn needs to perform well to keep earning the mere pennies in his contract). Clearly, I am not. I had to ask Tim, though, if he thought Adam Dunn was worried about HIM when he got laid off. Tim didn't think so. And Tim maintains that he is merely mock-concerned with Dunn's livelihood.

I hear whistles. Claps. Shouts. Cries of "C'mon, Brandon!" Yells of "What are you thinking, Volquez?!" Whimpers of "Hon, they just don't know how to play!" On Thursday Tim came jogging in to the kitchen to tell me Votto had just hit a homer. And this is from THREE. GAMES.

It's going to be a long season, folks.