Spring has come a little early here in Seattle, so I’m feeling positive as hell. Morning is the time of day I like the most, when it’s too early to disappoint yourself. And this is morning time in baseball land.
It is morning in baseball land when a shoddy feed of a random spring training game means more to me than a rebroadcast of any of the greatest games in history. I’ve seen Willie Mays make The Catch a hundred times, but I’ve never seen Tommy Manzella field a routine ground ball.
Morning in baseball land means that Neftali Feliz is more intriguing than Alex Rodriguez. It’s the spring of his career, too, and just like a day can go sour before lunch, I’ll be watching to see if Neftali–and his colleagues Wieters, Porcello, and Hanson, etc.–will make it to the afternoon.
Morning in baseball land and I’m one mock draft in, warming up the fantasy side of my brain like a relief pitcher. One genius turn of fantasy baseball is that it mimics the patterns of the sport. I anticipate the draft as giddily as I do the season, before the truth of the year sets in and it all plays out.
Morning in baseball land is not optimistic or pessimistic. It ain’t true that anyone could win it. The truths is that none of us knows what stories are about to be told. But we know that there will be stories. Like walking out onto the proverbial sidewalk to see who will brush past you and start the wheels of the day in motion.
Morning time in baseball land is the first page of a very good book. Tragedy, or comedy? Ends with a death or a marriage? That all depends on the starting rotation. Either way, there will be heroes and villains. There will be a story.
There will be a story that the media writes: the career records and the standings. There is also a story that your life writes around the season: what you missed, what you saw, where you saw it from, how you missed it. Why you missed it, and who you missed it with.
That’s the song of the morning, and they’re singing it now.