We’re going to spring training, the whole family. It’s a surprise, my birthday present, a long weekend in Fort Myers. I’ve always wanted to go, ever since I was a kid in Pittsburgh listening to the Bucs warm up in sunny Bradenton. Trudy says she’s sick of listening to me yap about it, so here it is, a folder with the plane tickets, the hotel reservations, the rental-car agreement. We can’t afford it, but I can’t say that.

And there’s the envelope with the game tickets and the diagram of City of Palms Park. We’re going to see the Sox play their traditional game against Boston College on Friday, then the first game of the year against the Yankees Sunday and finally a Monday game against the Twins, who also train in Fort Myers. I forget about the money for a second and check out where we’re sitting.

I hit the Sox website to find out more about the training complex. I figure my son Steph and I can hang out and watch the players while Trudy and Caitlin beach it. I check the schedule, thinking the BC game is the very first of the spring.

It’s not. We’re playing the Twins at their place on Thursday. I go to their website and buy four tickets for it.

We’re also playing Northeastern at home on Friday night. I buy four more.

February 23rd

My brother John calls from Pittsburgh and asks me who he should draft from the Sox for his AL fantasy team. He’s a Pirates fan and doesn’t follow the junior circuit closely. Personally, I don’t like fantasy leagues, the way they make you root for individual players over team performance, but I do my best for him.

“Keith Foulke should get forty saves no matter how badly he pitches.”

“Last year you told me Mendoza.”

“Bronson Arroyo.”

“He’s no good. At least he wasn’t when he was with us. Who else?”