With all due respect to a split-squad pair of games the Red Sox played yesterday afternoon (out of force of habit Josh Beckett drank beer and ate chicken I am told), Spring Training gets absolutely real today as both the Grapefruit and Cactus Leagues commence play.
Anyone who tells you the baseball games in Arizona and Florida don't count has never, ever lived in the Northeastern part of the United States. Those of us who (now) call New England home can face the news of a nasty-a$$ winter storm this weekend with grace and composure, assuming we have MLB Network, because our lives between snowflakes will be filled with images of grown, supposedly adult, men accomplishing sandlot heroics at Wall Street Raider salaries. And we eat it up with a spoon and ask for seconds, please.
For folks like me, surrounded by choices like SNY for the Mets, NESN for the Red Sox and YES for the Yankees, let it snow for a month. It'll be melted by the All-Star Game, at least it usually is. Old Man Winter, do your worst and we'll do our best. Baseball, the ageless pastime that makes old men young again has returned. and if the green of the grass looks just a little different maybe it's because of the dye we're using to make the field 'pop' because of the TV cameras with the artificial turf, but no worries, the crack of the bat isn't lip-synced.
“People ask me what I do in the winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.” Break out the Windex, Rog. We're ready-heck, we are completely past ready and approaching fully there.