I saw baseball on television for the first time yesterday, straining through a barside smokescreen to catch a glimpse of the season's initial spring training contests. Never fails - the sight of green grass mowed into diamond patterns sets my cold-fatigued soul to smiling. This morning, I heard birds singing, and smelled just a whiff of that renewed earth scent - could've been my daughter's dirty diaper, but I'm going with the Baseball Poets.
You won't see much in the way of season previews in this space, as Whit and I generally traffic in the absurd and leave the hardcore analysis to much smarter and more industrious types. We'll gear it up over the next several weeks, and come out firing on at least 1 cylinder come late March. In the meantime, please visit our unofficial sponsor, Narragansett Beer. Unofficial (and somewhat unilateral, though I'm certain Whit will approve) because the good folks at Narragansett have no idea that we're touting them and frankly, would probably rather we didn't. However, Whit and I have a friend from our less respectable days who is a part of the rebirth of 'Gansett, and we just want to do our part to help out. Jimmy, if we're violating any copyrights, send Whit an email and he'll make restitution.
In the words of the late, legendary Curt Gowdy, "Hey neighbor, grab a 'Gansett".
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