Dan Dunn

Today was Truck Day.  I rooted through my closet this morning and carefully chose what to wear.  The Red Sox red socks that Aunt Ellen gave me were guaranteed.  First try was the 2004 long-sleeve shirt with my Youk game jersey over it.  Turned out the jersey had some beer stains (how did those get there, I wonder).  Round 2 was a Soxaholix shirt under the 2004, with a blue Sox pullover and the new red warmup jacket with zippered sleeves.  Top it off with the cleanest of my Red Sox caps, and that’s 7 different items of clothing with a Red Sox logo.  I was ready for the 12 degree February morning, with the entire 2009 season stretching in front of me.

I was not the only Truck Day celebrant.  Respect the Tek woke from a blogging slumber (read the archives – there’s some quality writing there).  Boston.com got the photographers in full swing.  And of course Soxaholix was the place to read the commentary.

It turns out that most people at work don’t know what truck day even is.  When I explained it, they still didn’t get it, until I said it like this: We know it’s not Opening Day yet.  It’s not the first game of exhibition season.  It’s not the first day of spring training.  It’s not even the day that pitchers and catchers report.  It’s the day that the equipment truck drives from Boston to Florida in anticipation of . . . all of that.  

Truck Day is sort of like seeing the first robin of spring, but who cares about some stupid worm-eating bird?  Truck Day is the first whiff of beer and popcorn, the leading whisper of the roar of the crowd, the almost-there pop of the bat,  and the start up the hill of the roller coaster.  You’re not moving fast yet, but oh, the anticipation.