I kicked off my delightful weekend this past Friday evening with a couple of hours of high school baseball.

Bruce Wallace

There is nothing like a warm spring evening at the ballpark, watching the Eagles win an exciting, fast-paced high school game – and let me tell you, this was nothing like that.

Oh, sure, the Eagles won. And one of the requirements of being a fast-paced game is so that the players would not become popsicles.

It was cold.

Remember that January day you stayed home because school was called off and your mother pushed you and your brother outside and your woolen mittens were frozen in 15 minutes and your brother only let you use the sled on the uphill runs?

Yeah. That kind of miserable cold.

With a slap-you-upside-the-head wind unblocked from the north, there was no way the cold could not be a major factor in either team’s ability to play ball.

It was Shackleton visits the South Pole cold.

Parents were wearing sleeping bags in the stands – and I would have had a photo of it, however, after two innings of photos, my trusty camera blinked off. I seemed to remember a story from Brian Kirmse about warming digital camera batteries in my arm pit – but Brian wasn’t around to demonstrate and I was going to find out if he was yanking my chain or providing Photo Pro Tips – but I wasn’t crazy enough to try it.

How in the world Nate Allen stayed warm enough to pitch for six-plus innings is beyond me. Why Colby Phillips didn’t blow away out in centerfield is a meteorological mystery.

It was much like watching a baseball game while standing in a beer cooler, with a giant fan blowing a cold, constant breeze right in your face.

Players wore sweatshirts and windbreakers over their uniforms. The umpires more wool ear muffs under their umpire hats along with coats and gloves. It was officially 31-degrees, but the wind chill made it feel like single digit-cold.

The Eagles came from behind to win the game and less than 5 minutes after Brady Holton scooped up a ground ball and stepped on third base for the final out, the stands were empty and fans were turning their car heaters to “Inferno.”

By the next morning, having slept in my flannel PJs between my flannel sheets and underneath a wool blanket, I had thawed.

The story doesn’t end there.

I ended my weekend on Sunday evening by showing both of our daughters the big, wet snowflakes as they fell on our deck. One daughter spent the day in shorts at her South Carolina home, the other enjoyed a spring day out and about near her New York City apartment. Enjoying spring.

I scraped an inch of snow off my car windshield on Monday morning.

I am done with attempting to make spring arrive via sheer will power. My plan has moved from hoping for warm weather to praying for warm weather to cursing the weather gods as they laugh at me and my dog each time we bundle up to race through our evening walk.

No leisurely spring stroll, we have been forced to not enjoy our evening ritual – just get it over with.

Forget Spring.

Just get summer here as soon as possible.

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