Franke: Signs of an Early Spring?
by Mark Franke
Having just dealt with multiple winter storms in the last fortnight, my subconscious has drifted to thinking of spring. Given northern Indiana’s reputation for unpredictable weather, an early spring breakthrough is not beyond the realm of possibility — that’s possibility, not probability. Still, it got me thinking of spring despite the risk of disappointment to follow.
What are the signs that spring is coming? First, there is Major League Baseball’s (MLB) spring training camps opening in Florida and Arizona. Pitchers and catchers reported first with the rest of the squads following close behind. I hesitate to note that the Chicago Cubs got a head start of several days by having their batteries report early. The Cubs can use the extra few days, as my Cubs fan friends would readily agree. Now I need to determine the least expensive way to renew my MLB network subscription so that I can watch a game every day if I want. Just don’t get me started on MLB’s blackout rules. Fort Wayne is considered a local market for the Cubs, White Sox, Tigers and Reds so those games are verboten, irrespective of the simple fact that I don’t have any local channel coverage for several of them.
I also received a polite email message from my ticket manager with the Fort Wayne TinCaps that the final payment on my season tickets is now due. I’m never sure about that notice when it comes every year. It’s a lot of money, as my wife never hesitates to remind me, but it also means I will get to spend many pleasurable evenings at the ballpark watching the only professional sport that I truly love.
At least the opening of spring training means the shutdown of what is called the Hot Stove League, that period of time over the winter when everyone with an open mic or a social media account can criticize trades made by their favorite team. Or, more often, trades not made by their favorite team. Perhaps I am too much of a baseball purist; just shut up and let the teams decide the issue on the field. They have six months and 162 games to do it.
My sport might be baseball but my wife’s is golf. Another sign of the coming spring is her switching her default TV channel to the golf one from HGTV. And it’s about time. I am running out of excuses why I can’t undertake the home improvement projects that look so easy when the professionals do it on TV. It is less stressful to answer her questions about the arcane rules of golf than to admit to my inadequate carpentry skills.
She took up golf last year and has become irredeemably addicted. She played last season with borrowed clubs and earned the “rookie of the year” award in her women’s golf league. Her sights for this season are set higher: new clubs, professional lessons, computerized analysis of her swing and who knows what. By the time all those financial bills are settled, I think it would have been less expensive doing that complete bathroom remodel project she wants.
Some signs of spring are closer to home, literally. We provide housing for two families of bluebirds and they have returned to our backyard. I don’t know where they go for the winter but I save money on their specialized bird feed while they are gone. Trust me; they have an expensive diet. Once they return, my job is to keep the sparrows from squatting in the blue bird houses. This isn’t California so there are no legal constraints on my rights as the landlord. Sparrows are served immediate eviction notices if they try to enter the bluebird houses.
Looking across to the bird houses on the back side of our wooded property, I am forced to remember what spring means in terms of yard work. All those twigs blown down by winter storms must be raked, the yard needs to be fertilized and then mowed twice per week as the fertilizer kicks in, the flower beds must be mulched, and the disorganized mess that has accumulated somehow in the garage must be cleared. Still, those chores are appealing compared to walking behind my snowblower again. At least they sound appealing in February.
Eventually I will be yanked from my reveries back to reality. This is Indiana, so we can expect a March snowstorm during the high school sectional basketball tournament. This may fall into the category of urban legend but all us Hoosiers insist on its veracity.
Despite these early signs of spring, it doesn’t officially begin until I can hear the neighborhood children playing in the evenings at the end of the cul-de-sac. That is music to my grandfather’s ears, especially when my own grandkids are down there with them.
Mark Franke, M.B.A., an adjunct scholar of the Indiana Policy Review and its book reviewer, is formerly an associate vice-chancellor at Indiana University-Purdue University Fort Wayne.
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