ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Friday, January 26, 1996 TAG: 9601260046
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV_7 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
TYPE: COMMENTARY|
SOURCE: RAY COX
Cursed be the January thaw.
That melted our snowmen.
That drowned the recycled newspapers in our basement.
That washed our neighbors' cars down the creek.
That made the birds chirp.
That made the sun come out.
That made us think the end was near.
``Your brain has turned to blubber,'' a heartless cynic said. ``It is still the middle of January. If the end of winter is at hand, I'll pay your air-conditioning bill for two months.''
But it was 50 sun-dappled degrees on Tuesday...
``You were out in that sun too long.''
But the warm breezes blew Wednesday morning, and if you turned your nose into that wind you could catch the faint fragrance of the ocean. You could almost hear the sea gulls...
``The next sound you're going to hear is a guy in a white overcoat locking the door of a room that has upholstery on the walls.''
But the seed catalogues are in, the winter clothing is on sale, Peter Gammons is talking baseball every time you turn on a TV.
``If I had Gammons' money, I'd go where it's summer all the time.''
Not that there's any big gripe against winter. Winter's cool, especially if your idea of a fun commute is a couple of 360s before you slide dramatically into the company parking lot.
Which brings to mind wintertime trips to a friend's summer home in Maine when we were in high school. Groups of us used to go up there for weekends. Despite the lack of adult supervision, we spent our time wisely. Studying.
Really, Mother.
Between essays and theorems, we would sit on the front porch in old rocking chairs and look out at the lake, which, at that time of year, was frozen hard as Newt Gingrich's head. Local dudes would then drive their cars out on the white expanse and get them going wide open before locking up the brakes. The resulting full-speed spin sent their vehicles careening out of control across the ice like propellers that have broken free of their drive shafts.
Didn't see anything like it until I covered my first race at New River Valley Speedway some years later.
Ice spinning, now that's a real winter sport.
Winter sports, in case you haven't noticed, must have that element of danger in them. Where's the thrill of watching a guy put lumber on his feet and skid down a hill unless you know he might end up hanging by the seat of his pants from the branches of a hemlock?
Not to be morbid about this, but winter sports are perfect for those who enjoy the element of danger (to somebody else). Blood always shows up well against the show.
Personally, I'll take less stressful stuff. Baseball. Golf. Fishing. Warm-weather sports for the most part, unless you live in Blacksburg.
If you can stay out of the way of flying baseballs (unless you intend to catch them), you'll be fine. The umpire is the only one to whom the game poses much danger. He's the guy targeted for verbal abuse by the manager. If the man in blue can survive being chewed out without drowning or expiring from his lecturer's bad breath, he'll live again to call more balls and strikes.
Golf is safe, unless you lay your tee shot upside some big dude' s head.
As for fishing, watch out for a big bass swamping your boat.
As we've been reminded, that's getting ahead of the game. There's still plenty of winter left.
Might as well live dangerously. Go take in a basketball game.
If your blood pressure can stand it.
LENGTH: Medium: 70 linesby CNB