Hubbard’s cupboard may not be bare

A second man has come forward claiming that Bishop Hubbard paid him for sex back in the 1970s. It seems like a long time ago, but the guy said he first recognized Hubbard as a john about a decade ago.Hubbard’s been bishop in Albany for a long time. The accuser said he came forward in anger after Hubbard said this week that he had never had sex with anyone in refuting the claim he’d had sex with a young man who later committed suicide because of it.

Hubbard denies even knowing the suicidal man, Thomas Zalay. If he’s lying that should be easy enough to prove and the lawyer accusing him should provide the proof as soon as possible.

As for the new accuser, Anthony Bonneau, he says he’s a born-again Christian and father and that Hubbard was a regular customer. I don’t see much motive in him coming forward with this because he’s putting his reputation, his family, and his business on the line. I don’t think he could sue because it was consensual and not a priest-parishioner situation. The only possibilityads/fenwaypark.jpg" style="margin-right:15px;margin-bottom:10px;" align="left" border="0" alt="Fenway Park" name="Fenway Park" width="200" height="131" /> Yes, I know we just got four inches of snow and a coating of freezing rain yesterday. And the vernal equinox is weeks away. It doesn’t seem much like spring in most measures, except one. Baseball spring training is coming soon.

Now, I’m a big football fan, bigger than baseball, but baseball is a very close second. I love those summer nights sitting outside with the radio on, listening to the game, having a beer and a cigar, and talking with friends. The excitement of the pennant race and the slow movement of a Sunday afternoon game. Baseball has a much different rhythm than football, and it’s a world all its own.

There’s something else about baseball too, all having to do with its timing. Football starts in the summer and takes us into the teeth of winter. It’s a rugged sport, men against each other and the elements as well. It’s tough and in-your-face. Baseball starts in winter, but heralds the spring. In the depths of cold and wet days, it reminds us that green grass and warm breezes are not far away. There’s a reason the saying is “hope springs eternal.” And there’s a reason that Easter is during spring as well. The coming of spring is a sign of re-birth, renewal, moving from the temporary death of winter to the vibrant life of spring and summer.

So when the equipment truck is loaded up at Fenway Park in a week, and pitchers and catchers report to Fort Myers, Florida, in two weeks, and all the sports reporters begin their winter vacations in the Sunshine State, and we’re glued to the TV as much to see swaying palm trees as Pedro Martinez, visions of hot summer nights and late-inning rallies coming to mind. We dream once again of October games, and Red Sox fans can recall that “Better luck next year” still awaits the fulfilment of that promise.

So my mental shift has begun. I read the Patriots news sites and the football pages of the ESPN web site less and less, while I start to catch up on all the Red Sox news that I might have missed over the winter. I start to pay attention to who’s contracts have been signed and who has yet to sign and who is in shape to begin the season and who is not, which veterans have passed their prime and which rookies look most promising. I’m in a baseball state of mind. Spring can’t come soon enough.