Let me root, root, root for the home team. If they don’t win it’s a shame. For it’s one, two, three strikes, you’re out, at the old ball game. -Jack Norworth
Spring has sprung! Hope springs eternal in the human breast! Major League Baseball. For the first time in 117 days, it’s game day! I live for this! Smell it? Ooooh that smell. Can’t you smell that smell? Smells like neat’s-foot oil in that old Wilson A2000. Smells like Derek Jeter? Smells like Red Man. Smells like Fenway Franks. They plump when you cook ‘em. Smells like spilled beer on the hot concrete. Smells like freshly cut grass. Like Shoeless Joe, that was me. “I’d wake up at night with the smell of the ballpark in my nose, the cool of the grass on my feet…The thrill of the grass.” The thrill of the grass is back baby and I’m so excited. I just can’t hide it. I’m like Annie Savoy: “I believe in the Church of Baseball.” I’m like Rogers Hornsby: “People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.” Well Rajah, spring has done sprung. Baseball has begun.
Peace out homies. Six two and Even!
Original Story:
http://joshqpublic.com/2011/02/26/sme...
