The sun was shining and baseball was on the radio again this weekend, and that’s marvelous. But it’s not the real thing.
I listened to bits of a couple of games, and I enjoyed hearing the sounds of the ballpark again: the crack of the bat (yes, the Giants got some hits!), the banter of the announcers, the vendors calling “cold beer here!” in the Arizona desert.
Split squads with 17 pitchers taking the mound have some charm, and outfielders with uniform numbers more suitable to defensive linemen in the NFL make for some interesting moments.
Like an aging pitcher getting his arm primed for the regular season, I’m doing a little here, a little there, getting my baseball muscles ready for April. But I’m not going to overdo it.