Schill here. Red’s still sprawled out in bed, shotgunning DayQuil and Boone’s Farm. Meanwhile, Denton remains MIA, probably holed up in an Ivory Tower somewhere. So here I am. And all I really have to say is that despite what you may think or have read, I didn’t mean to plunk that kid with the fastball. I mean, this is spring training. Come on. I don’t put on the serious pants until, oh, July at best. If it’s August, watch your ass — I don’t want you so comfortable in that box that you ask to see a wine menu. But if it’s March… dude, you’ve just got to duck.