Here’s the thing: baseball time is a different dimension. If the game is at 4:05 p.m., it’s basically the “I can still wear shorts” slot. But a 7:10 p.m. start? That’s the “put on a hoodie and pray the wind dies down” hour. You’ll check your phone at 6:45, feel smug, then realize NESN’s pregame show is 45 minutes long. By the time Jerry Remy (RIP, king) would have told a story about a seagull, it’s 7:20, and you’ve already eaten three hot dogs.
I once told my wife the game started at 7:10. She planned dinner for 6:30. By 7:00, I was pacing the kitchen like a caged animal, and she was glaring at the microwave. Lesson learned: always say the game starts 30 minutes later than it does. It’s the only way to keep the peace and maintain barbecue integrity.
When Life Gets in the Way
Let’s talk about the real enemy: life admin. You’re all set to watch at 7:10, but then your kid needs help with a math worksheet about fractions. Or the dog decides 7:05 is the perfect moment to demand a walk. Suddenly, you’re listening to the game on a tinny phone speaker while trying to keep a golden retriever from eating a squirrel. First pitch becomes a mythical event, like a unicorn. You catch the score update on ESPN: “Red Sox score two in the first.” Meanwhile, you’re standing in a pile of leaves, sweating.
Red Sox vs. Twins tonight: Time, channel, how to watch the game
And don’t get me started on work-from-home days. You think you can sneak an inning during a 4 p.m. start? Ha. The boss schedules a “quick sync” at 4:05. You mute your mic, pretend to take notes, and watch the box score on a tiny browser tab. It’s the ultimate game of office stealth. Rafael Devers hits a double, and you have to suppress a cheer like you’re in a library.
