Spring training is almost here for the great American pastime, and
yes, I am talking baseball. There is nothing more definitive on my
calendar than the marking of the great expectation that comes with the
new season right around the corner. Baseball, apple pie and Chevrolet,
although if someone were to write that jingle today, it would probably
read, baseball, sushi, and Toyota. That does not seem to have the same
ring to it, so in my outdated mind, I still think of hot dogs, beer, and
stale cigar smoke permeating the night air at the old ball park.
I
still see the Mick, The Say Hey Kid, Yogi, Aaron, Mathews, Koufax,
Drysdale, and a whole host of other all time greats as they arrive and
begin getting ready for the greatest of all games. I still see the
lovable Cubbies and their fans as they greet the first days of practice
with their eternal optimism that yes, this is the year that curse of the
goat is broken. I can understand that optimism, and I can understand
that anticipation, for you see, I , too, have my version of the Cubbies
to rocket my expectations soaring into the heavens, only to have them
crash to the ground in hopeless flames of destruction by July 1. For you
see, I am a die hard Seattle Mariner fan, and have been since that
first pitch in the Kingdome, April 6, 1977. Now, I live and die with
their fortunes, which have been few, and their misfortunes, which of
been colossal.
. There is reason once again to hope, to dream, and to
believe, that this year, 2018, just could be the year. I also still have
hope that I will be 6'5 and be very wealthy. Well, a fellow can dream,
can't he? After all, Spring Training is here, and anything can happen.
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