The Beisbol

The Beisbol

Mmmm. Baseball.

Spent part of this cold, February morning buying tickets for the Cubs/Braves series this June.

Seems a little off, buying tickets the day after groundhog's day for a four game set right about the time the June Swoon should be hitting the Cubbies.

There was a time the Cubs were down in Atlanta a couple times a year. In the neighborhood of Memorial and Labor days, if not precisely on those weekends.

Thanks to the car salesman ostensibly in charge of our game and his interleague play, in addition to this multitude of teams we see in the senior circuit, we don't see them close to my neck of the woods but once a year.

Gotta get myself in gear for talking about baseball. After the Super Bowl, we enter pretty much the 4-6 most useless weeks of the sporting year.

I'm not a spring training guy. You won't find me hollering stuff like "18 days until pitchers and catchers report!" Mostly because I don't understand the intricate workings of your American "calendars."

But also because Spring Training's a warmup, and very little of it means anything, besides finding out who's going to be the fifth man in a rotation, or whether this scrub or that scrub will end up in a platoon in left field. It's better than nothing, I reckon.

But not by much.

So, until the first round of the NCAA tournament gets here in mid-March, February and the first couple weeks of March are a vast sports wasteland, where I am forced to amuse myself with such distractions as "Solitaire" or "Spider Solitaire" on my computer, rather than staring vacantly at the teevee like a man of my obvious mental faculties should be.

You know, I had a point to this post when I started, but damned if I know what it was. Just rambling mindlessly because I'm too much of a candyass to go out into the cold.

Gracias,

el pollo diablo