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How do you survive the Off-Day Blues?

Jon Lester #31 doesn't like off days, either. (Photo by Hannah Foslien/Getty Images)
Jon Lester #31 doesn't like off days, either. (Photo by Hannah Foslien/Getty Images)
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When I was a resident of the Mountain Time Zone (also known as the Time Zone that Television Forgot All About), watching the Sox was a wonderful experience: I'd get home from work and "turn on" the game. OK, it was (middle of nowhere, remember?), but it was still a great way to wind down after a rough day, unless, of course, Daisuke Matsuzaka was on the mound, in which case it was more like coming home and having to walk a tightrope instead. The other great bonus was that West Coast games actually started at a reasonable hour, and even the inevitable Sunday night Yankees-Red Sox marathons would end at a time that let me have a reasonable bedtime. (Marathon game ≠ zombie lone1c the next day!)

Of course, there was always the evil lurking right around the corner: the dreaded Off Day monster. While I understand its necessity—after all, who can work every single day without going batty or, worse still, getting hurt?—it meant that there was a void in my life. Three hours of my day (or four, in case of games against the Yankees or Rays) with nothing to do but try to lead my life. (Which, being the Middle of Nowhere, had its disadvantages.) Those Mondays and Thursdays without Sox games? Sheer and utter torture. It was awful: I had to interact with actual people, in real life. Occasionally, I'd willingly work overtime, just because there was nothing else around to occupy the time.

I mean, honestly, I tried my best to keep the baseball going. I'd check out the various blogs out there, and hoped to find something interesting to talk about for a while. I'd even try to watch an occasional game, but it just wasn't the same. Without my Sox on the screen, it couldn't hold my attention. I'd find myself switching apps—Padres-Pirates wasn't a match for Gmail and iTunes. There was a Sox-shaped hole in my schedule, and nothing could take its place. How do you replace David Ortiz and Dustin Pedroia? Jon Lester and Daniel Bard? Don Orsillo and Jerry Remy?

So, as we wait another, oh, twenty-seven and a half hours for the next Red Sox game to start, I'm curious. How do you get over the real "hump day" : a day without the Sox on our screens?