Suddenly, Daisuke is everywhere. At the airports. Flitting through Mass General. Knocking down John Henry on the Fenway green. Last night, he was at the Bruins game. Today, you’ll find him working the gift-wrapping booth at Filene’s, and helping your girlfriend string Christmas lights across her dorm room.
What I’m loving about this All Daisuke All The Time madness is that the whole city’s gone baseball batsh-t in the winter. This is traditionally the time when my brain goes into hibernation. I don’t watch the Bruins. Or the Celtics. Or even the Patriots, much to Denton’s horror. For me, it begins and ends with baseball, and after the final pitch of the season is thrown, I turn my attention to other pursuits — Russian literature, woodworking, internet pornography — until Spring Training.
But this year, everything’s going to be different. The Hot Stove season looks to be a 24/7 affair on NESN. The sports pages are fat with Red Sox stories. Theo and the Trio are kicking off the local newscasts. And we haven’t really even begun to turn our attention to Clemensgate. Just imagine the wonders ahead.
So, at least on paper, we have an embarassment of riches in the pitching department, with lots of people with something to prove, particularly Beckett (who surely wants us all to know that Theo wasn’t on hallucinogens when he traded away Hanley Ramirez to get him) and Das Curt (who, in what he claims is his last year, surely wants to go out on a high note). And the possibility of a Manny-Papi-JD one-two-three punch in the line-up seems more realistic with every passing day.
Ladies and gentlemen, April can’t get here fast enough.