Baseball again...
Ah, what's that I smell? Is it grass, newly mown, lines painted in all the right places, dirt raked perfectly? Yes, it is baseball season once again, and unlike last year, there is a chance the teams from little league to big league, will get to play a full season. And there might even be fans at the games. (Heck in Texas, which has opened up completely so that absolute strangers can sit cheek to jowl, spit on each other, and spread the virus which isn't dead yet, guaranteeing its continued existence, you can go to a game with 40,000 other super-spreaders.) But back to baseball. In past years I have waxed poetic (another expression that makes no sense to me) about my love for baseball. I have told stories of being five years old and announcing at the dinner table my intent to be a professional player, a goal that never changed until I did just that. I have written about great baseball people like Yogi and Hank. And I have even written about the baseball gods (yes, they exist