February baseball–you really paying attention?
I really have been questioning the importance of Spring Training in the lives of most people. What is it really? It’s a chance for retirees to pretend they’re still relevant—they get to see the teams they love from the cities they left. Good for them.
What’s the point of scrutinizing every pitch and ‘split-squad’ practice game? The players and coaches are trying to figure out what the season will bring. Do people in Hollywood show the world their first rehearals? No.
The season has 162 games—is a month and a half of practice games really seem that necessary? It’s blown out of proportion due to the greed of the owners. They figure, we can make just a little more more from concessions and gate gains. Let’s take advantage of the snowbirds, retirees, and the pathetic shlubs in snow-bound, football-less, cities.
Seriously, how many people are in camp…467? I’m pretty sure the bay boy and ball girl were turning double-plays at the last split-squad game. They were playing a Florida International University club team. And they lost.
I say waske me up once the NCAA tourney reaches the Sweet Sixteen. True-an awful lot of junk have transpired leading to my bitterness. The electric company broke the ‘neutral’ in the line heading to my house. The resulting power surge fried my computer, TV, refridgorator, oven, dishwasher, microwave, alarm clocks, my music keyboard, and my Wii—my freakin’ Wii. I’m being reassured that we will be compensated fully. For the time being, I’m living in the 1960′s. And I was fortunate to get a skin infection on top of this—the left side of my faced is swollen like Dickie Thon’s after getting plunked in the eye. My son has walking pneumonia and my wife was forced to work the late (12-9pm) shift at her job–the money -making job. So I’m essentially a one-eyed, single dad of two young kids, living in a house without any modern conveniences. And I supposed to be concerned about how Vlad Guerrero is getting along with his new mates…
My appologies to Rantsports.com and anyone who is geeked over pineapple/grapefruit ball. They details of Derek Jeter’s “spring” house left me a bit sick to my stomach. Oh wait that’s just the Flu…or a tapeworm. Who am I, Job? (That’s a Bible reference, yo)