Tuesday, 26 April 2016
beginnings remind me of the ends
I can't imagine there are many winemakers for whom the beginning of baseball season makes them think of harvest. It doesn't make any sense, really. In the northern hemisphere, you're just getting bud break. There's hail and frost and then heat and rain and drought to worry about. In the southern hemisphere, you've just finished harvest and don't give a shit about baseball anyway.
I can think of only one other old world winemaker who worries about the start of baseball season, and he's an Angels fan, so it doesn't really count.
But the beginning of the season cannot help but bring to mind the end of the season. As those first games kick off, it's like the first few pages of a good book. You wonder where it's going to end. Especially if you know what kind of book it is. With baseball, you know that your team is either going to get to the playoffs or they won't, but within that time, there will be hundreds of stories that play out during the course of the season.
And at bud break, you know that eventually, those stark and still-pruned vines will bear fruit and you'll pick that fruit and it'll be wine, some day. But the journey's fraught, and has its own stories, with harvest always in the back of your mind. They're entwined now, baseball and winemaking. As vintage takes its toll, the race for the pennant reaches its peak. Neither effects the other, but their places in my heart can't be separated.
It's a long season, for both baseball and grapes. It pays to stay in the now. I've started writing about baseball. If that should be of any interest to you whatsoever, you should check it out here,
And if not, you should check out my new book if you haven't already.