Worst thing about today: About a month ’til real baseball starts.
If I was running the show, spring training would last about a week. Just one week. Long enough to get some goofy photos of the boys playing slap-ass and take in a couple games against the local college team/senior bowling league/hookers’ union. Then, bam. It’s time for the regular season. I don’t need 26 games against the Twins and Rays that don’t count, I want the real McCoy, splashed large across my TV and radio.
Don’t get me wrong: I’ve learned how to wait. Because it’s all I can do. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.