Rob J. Quinn’s Blog

The crack of the bat is what I’m looking forward to the most. I’ll enjoy squeaking sneakers on the basketball court, maybe even the sound of a good check into the boards on the ice. But more than anything as sports return, I’m looking forward to the sound of a baseball being smacked into the outfield for a base hit. It might be a while before we can actually go out to the ballgame, but it’s always fun. (This is me in June 2016.) It’s summer. It’s the end of July. Sitting down and watching a baseball game is a normal part of my life this time of year. I’m hoping—probably against all hope—that the Phillies finally playing their long-delayed opener is another step back to normalcy. I’m looking forward to thinking about pitching matchups, who’s hitting where in the lineup, and, if we’re lucky, where we are in the standings. Thinking about run lines and money lines wouldn’t be bad either. It will certainly be a welcome change to the endless stream of noise about the “surging” coronavirus

I needed a week away. I rarely say those words because my life doesn’t really generate the feeling of being overwhelmed by daily life and I think they are overused. But quarantining and being on my own five days a week for about a month gave those words real meaning for me. I was thrilled to get “down the shore” over July 4th. Rob at Sun Dog on the Beach. There’s nothing like sitting on the beach letting the ocean roll over your feet. Looking out and seeing no end to the water as it gives way to the sky is amazing. I was lucky enough to get in the water on my knees a few times. Even just inches deep in the ocean gives me a feeling of connection to the world, the universe, that I don’t understand but absolutely love. It’s the closest I come to feeling a sense of awe at the planet I live on. The warmth of the water allowed me to stay in the ocean for a while, the tide bringing the waves up to my waist at times. Letting the water run around me relaxed my body in ways I remembered from