Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I love you Tomorrow, Spring Training's On It's Way

I can't really believe that after everything Spring Training starts tomorrow.

I can't believe, even more, that we've gone since September without any Yankee baseball.

You know how ready I am for this?

I had a nightmare last night--not about family or friends dying, or getting caught in a tornado or the world exploding or anything like that.

I had a nightmare that the tickets I ordered for the 4/18 game never arrived.



Yeah, I think I'm ready for some Spring Training.

Shadow of Summer

I felt the sun on me today.

The bright blue sky, the parents taking their babies out for a stroll.

On the D train Chinese immigrants hollered Wallies, One Dollar, One Dollar, Wallies while two Mexican men did their best Mariachi impersonations.

In the middle of February, I remembered what summer is all about: the warm, the comfort, the vitality.

The sight of toddlers in the playground and teens on the basketball court.

The smell, sightly musty, perhaps, but, also the smell of hot dogs, pretzels and other street vendors.

The sounds, a steady beat, a steady pulse of the City's life.

It's not really fair, this tease. Spring is not even official for another six weeks.

Yet...

For this brief, shining moment, we remember why they play baseball in the summer--because it's when you're most alive.

Torre's Book This Year's Fist Pump

Well, there seems to be one Spring Training question that we've already got an answer to: What will be this year's ridiculous controversy made for probably no other reason than that it involves the Yankees.

Last year, it was Joba's fist pump.

This year, it's Torre's book.

It's a controversy for a few reasons, but perhaps the biggest one is that Torre seemingly violates the unwritten code that what goes on in the clubhouse stays in the clubhouse.

Now, I'm not a guy. I don't know how serious these man-codes are, and I, perhaps fortunately for everyone else, have never possessed the athletic gift to play on a team. So the entire idea of a locker-room culture is a bit foreign to me, like the idea of offering Pagan sacrifices to the gods. I understand the concept, but I will never fully understand it because I'm not a part of it.

But anyway.

Regardless of my ignorance, what did apparently happen here, is a breach of trust.

The players trusted Torre, told him things in confidence, things that were never meant for the public to here. Whether or not the players should have trusted Torre is obviously another story, but for now, what's important is that they did and Torre broke that trust.

While the Yankees might be fine moving on from now, seeing as Torre is no longer their manager, you have to wonder what's going through the mind of the LA Dodgers, whom Torre manages. The tenor in that clubhouse now will likely be somewhat awkward--I mean, what if you were a Dodger and your boss just sold out his former workers?

I was told the other night that at Torre's book signing there were crowds cheering for him, though I have to wonder what portion of the crowd were Yankee-haters or simply fed-up Yankee fans as opposed to die-hard Yankee fans. I'm not delusional; the latter probably outnumbered the former, but I'm still curious to see what the split was.

So I guess in this sense this controversy isn't perhaps as pointless as the fist pump, but, at the same time, it's destined to become a favorite distraction of the media.

Questions to Ask During Spring Training

Now that Spring Training is around the corner, I thought I'd go and list some of the more pressing questions that the Yankees have to address.

Throughout the month of February I'll periodically attempt an answer at some of these questions, and in March, as with last year, I will do a team preview a day which should take us right to the start of baseball season.

So, the questions:

1) What happens if Jorge Posada can't catch?
2) Who will come out of Spring Training as the fifth starter?
3) Will Derek Jeter have a better offensive year or will his decline become more progressed?
4) Who starts in center--Melky or Gardner?
5) Will Andy Pettitte pull an '08 Mussina?
6) How long does General Joe Girardi have before that hot seat starts really heatin' up?
7) What's this year's fist pump/HA/otherwise inane controversy?
8) How much *more* controversy can the New Stadium create?
9) How will the economic collapse of doom affect attendance?
10) Nady or Swisher?

These are just some of the questions the Yankees have; if you've got one you'd like to see me attempt to address, please feel free to leave it in a comment!

Now That the Steelers Won a Record Sixth Super Bowl...

...Spring training is only two weeks away.


Hope you're ready.



*****

The most stressful and least wanted job in American may very well be Super Bowl referee. I am *so* glad I am not that guy...

Spring Forward

Some people celebrate Valentine's Day with cards.

Some celebrate with roses, or chocolate.

Others, however, choose baseball.



Happy Start of Spring Training.


May the 2008 baseball season bring you much joy and remember...


In the end, it doesn't matter if you win or lose. What matters is that you play.

How to Spend the Last 24 Hours Before Spring Training

12 AM--Celebrate by turning calendar page.

1 AM--Attempt to go to sleep. Curl up with nice book, such as The Natural or Field of Dreams, or printouts from a certain blog about...well, you know.

3.30 AM--Finish reading, drift off to sleep. Have baseball related dream in which you eat dinner with Roy Hobbs and some other legendary baseball figure. Steal Hobbs' bat. For the fun of it.

9.00 AM--Wake up. Realize that you don't, in fact, have Roy Hobbs' bat. Mope. Look outside the window and see the #@$@# blizzard of doom. Mope some more.

9.30 AM--Hop in the shower. Play energetic, non-wintery music. Anything with 'Summer' in the title, really. "Summer Lovin", "In the Summertime", "Boys of Summer"...you get the idea.

9.45 AM--Hop out of the shower, get dressed, make sure to leave Yankees' shirt for tomorrow and instead decree that today is the last day until next November that you'll wear a heavy winter sweater, no matter how cold it might be outside.

10.00 AM--Check ESPN, LoHud, PBP...eventually get around to unimportant things such as email and CNN.com.

10.30 AM--Head off to class. If you actually have a job, imagine all of this about two, three hours earlier. Listen to some classic baseball on the way.

12.30 PM--Lunch break. Check all the important websites, decide that you're going to ignore anything remotely connected to the Mitchell Report and instead focus on why the hell the Yankees are starting Joba in the 'pen, even if you know there's a rational explanation.


1.00 PM--Attempt one last-ditch attempt to get plane tickets to Tampa Bay. Realize that the tickets are way, way, way out of your price range.

1.03 PM--Mope.

1.30 PM--Decide to cure your moping by buying two tickets to a random Yankees game on a weeknight in May, when all the kids still have school so there are actual tickets to be had.

1.45 PM--Feel a bit thinner in the wallet, but spiritually richer.

2.30 PM--Get antsy and wonder why the hell the day won't end already.

2.45 PM--Break the copier/printer/lab computer in frustration.

3.30 PM--Log onto LoHud for first time in a few hours and discover that all hell has broken lose because Curt Schilling has announced his sudden retirement and thus the Red Sox have signed some pitcher from Japan that's supposed to be really good. Again.

4.30 PM--Find out by accident that, yes, the hockey teams are still playing, and, yes, the Devils are still a better team than the Rangers and the Islanders.

4.45 PM--Find out that basketball and the tri-state area are kind of like trying to combine oil and water.

5.30 PM--While attempting to drive home, get caught in blinding snowstorm. Repeat mantra: Last day of winter. Om. Last day of winter. Om.

7.00 PM--Finally get home. Check all important websites, discover that ______ has not, in fact, shown up yet in Tampa and get really worried. Find out that ______ has a new hair cut and looks really good, but ______ looks really awful. Start freaking out about prospects of 2008 season.

7.05 PM--Realize that if the entire season is going to be based on someone's haircut, you're in the wrong sport.

7.30 PM--After going out in the blizzard to grill burgers and 'dogs, cozy up to the TV and put it on YES to catch Yankees Classics or whatever it is they've got on.

11.00 PM--Decide watching the news might be slightly beneficial. Discover that _____ has been assassinate/overdosed on prescription drugs/overdosed on nonprescription drugs/had a love affair with a six year-old horse.

11.25 PM--Finally get to sports part of news broadcast and turn it off when they're only talking about the Knicks.

12.00 AM--Turn calendar page again. Pop champagne.


LESS THAN 24 HOURS

The Adventures of Rocket Man

Like most of you guys probably are, I'm sick of hearing about things related, however remote, to the Mitchell Report. However, reading that the Congressional hearings will now be limited to Clemens, McNamee, Mitchell and Waxman presents an opportunity that's too good to pass up. (Please note that this is a lighthearted attempt to poke fun at a situation that really shouldn't be as important as we're making it. No offense is meant.)


THE ADVENTURES OF ROCKET MAN
Adventures on Capitol Hill


The day dawned, bright, cold, and with a foul-smelling air, as is like to happen in a city such as Washington.

Rocket Man, alias Roger Clemens, woke up with a start, and, try as he might, he could not wipe the hint of fear out of his eyes. Today was the day.

It was a long time coming, but today he would, for once and all, have to fight his long time arch-enemy Roid, alias Brian McNamee. This wouldn't be like any other fight or battle that Rocket Man had endured, for he was not allowed the benefit of his favorite weapons, strikes one, two and three, nor did he have with him the Bat Shard of Doom, which had been so useful in his win over Pizza Man (alias Mike Piazza) back in 2000.

Instead, Rocket Man would have to rely solely on his wits and presence of mind. Roid's strongest weapon was also Rocket Man's biggest weakness, and there was now no other way for Rocket Man to defend himself.

Rocket Man got out of his warm, comfortable bed. He made himself his special Rocket Fuel (tm) Breakfast, and drank a whole, healthy glass of orange juice straight from the great state of Florida. This was the base of his fuel, the base of his special Rocket Man powers, but it was not enough. He needed a way to make sure he could conserve his powers throughout the day, so he took a special Rocket Man B12 Vitamin out of a vial and washed it down with some water.

The next step for Rocket Man was, of course, to dress himself in his special Rocket Man outfit, but only after a quick shower--the Rocket Man outfit loses its power if the wearer has not showered or taken a bath before donning it.


To start, Rocket Man put on his special Rocket Man boxers, no doubt given to him by the one true love of his life, Rocket Girl. Over these, he donned his special Rocket Man pants. Normally white with pinstripes, these he had disguised for the occasion--they were long, falling to his ankle, gray, and bore the name 'Armani' on the label. Over an undershirt, he put donned his alias Roger Clemens blue button-down shirt, the same he had worn on other, similar occasions. Lastly, on his feet, he wore special, black, Rocket Man dress shoes. He was dressed and ready to go.

Being so far away from his home in Houston, however, Rocket Man was nowhere near the Rocket Mobile, so, alas, he had to make do with a simple taxi. It was a hard test, and zapped some of Rocket Man's fuel, though not his health as he refused to engage in conversation with the taxi driver (who was not aware of how little health Rocket Man had, the result of the months-long pre-battle rituals).


Arriving at Capitol Hill, Rocket Man was seized with a sudden sense of dread. It was here, then, that his Doom was to be decided.


Rocket Man was lead into a large chamber, full of unfriendly men and women known as 'Congress'; these were ardent supporters of Rocket Man's most bitter enemies, and yet, somehow, he would have to woo them. He attempted the Glare of Death (tm) a couple of times, but alas, it seemed to have no effect.

It was not long now before Roid entered, followed closely by his ally Reporter (Alias George Mitchell) and Judge Waxman, the man that would ultimately decide the fate of all involved. The three took their appropriate places, and it was Waxman that spoke first.


Waxman: On this day, 13 February 2008, we have come here to decide the Doom of Rocket Man and Roid. Let it be known that all decisions rendered here are final and may not be challenged, lest they destroy the enjoyment of the 2008 Season for all Americans. Do you so swear to engage in an honest and fair battle?

Rocket Man: That I would do, but I am afraid that my enemy has already engaged in tactics that are not to be found anywhere in the manual of 'Permissible Behavior for those Selected to Appear before Congress'. If he resorts to such outside tactics, how is it right that I should be limited to ones that have been not impartially labeled 'fair' and 'honest'?

Waxman: Roid, have you a response to these accusations?

Roid: I have told only the truth. I have not resorted to the playing of recordings of phone conversations, nor appearances on select TV newsmagazines.

Rocket Man: But you have kept syringes for six years, in beer cans. Health Master General would not approve, and yet you seek to belong to the League of the Celebrated Informant.

Waxman: I say, is this true?

Roid: What do you want me to do? Tell me, what do you want me to do?

Waxman: I want you to answer the accusations presented herewith and tell the truth.

Roid: Oh. In that case, the syringes I kept were in perfect keeping with the Guidelines for Congressional Informants Seeking to Avoid Jail Time.

Waxman: I say then, there is nothing faulty in this, and that Rocket Man, you accusation is unfounded.


Rocket Man glanced around. This is not how it was supposed to happen; he'd have to think fast lest his entire plan fall apart.


Rocket Man: Roid seeks to destroy me. I have accomplished more good than he ever will, and yet he seeks to bring me down, to tarnish my name, my records.

Waxman: But is it not true that those who truly do good do not care about how they are perceived, as long as the good that they do is well remembered?

Without knowing it, Waxman had dug himself into a hole and Rocket Man had the perfect, ready response.

Rocket Man: If that were true even in the slightest bit, we would not be here in this very room. For while the good I have done, vanquishing such foes as Pizza Man, is well remembered, it is the mere, false, accusatory perception of me using substances that are rightfully banned that has me fighting for the Dignity of my life, Dignity that if lost cannot be restored.

The chamber fell into silence. Rocket Man had done the one thing that everyone knew was coming, but somehow resisted: he had deployed the ultimate weapon. He had spoken the truth. Well, a truth, anyway...which presented Roid with a last gasp, a last try for victory over his ultimate foe.


Roid: You seek to tell the truth and yet you call the accusations levied against your use of rightfully banned substances as false, when we know this is not true. What, then, is the definition of truth?

Rocket Man: What, then, is the definition of 'is'?


A great clamor and much hubbub engulfed the chamber. Rocket Man had struck a nerve with the Congress in the background, for it brought back memories of a much different age, which some would call a better age, when their leader, the mysterious President, was a different man whose greatest fault laid in his infidelities. Many still mourned his loss and that they were responsible for his downfall. If ever there was a weakness to Congress, it was his memory.


Waxman: I say to you both, that the truth shall be defined as 'that which is not a lie.' Rocket Man, now knowing this definition, what say you to Roid's accusations?

Rocket Man: That they are untrue. If you seek to know for sure, I would gladly part with some of my Rocket Fuel blood, precious as it is to my powers, for you to test, in front of all these men. Better yet, I would let you test those syringes which you have kept, for the presence of the rightfully banned substances and my Rocket Man DNA!

Roid: But that is impossible! Such evidence will now have been long gone.


Waxman: You should have stored the needles according to the guidelines of the American Red Cross then, and not Guidelines for Congressional Informants Seeking to Avoid Jail Time. In this instance, in which there is no way to know for sure what the truth is, and in beloved memory of our departed President whose memory we have evoked herewith, I issue my judgment in favor of Rocket Man.


Rocket Man had won the day, but he could not celebrate. Roid had lost officially, but as he knew all too well, such foes often come back when least expected. He would have to remain on his guard. Yet, his wits had served him, and he had won, his Adventure on Capitol Hill had been a success.



TWO days to go! Just Two!

A Dream of Summer?

The windchill today has hovered around 0 F. Last night, it went all the way down to -20.

My thought going to class today wasn't about Spring Training, but rather, how much I'm really, really jealous of everyone in Tampa Bay, and how I'm going to have to figure out a way to love frostbite.

You'd think, after four years, I'd learn something.

Guess not.

Anyway, as we get closer, some (not quite so obvious) questions to consider, ponder, etc:

1) Is Joe Torre really an excellent manager, or did he just luck out in New York?

1a) Has you-know-who gone into hiding yet?

2) Who really got the better end of the Miggy Cabrera deal? Dan Haren? Johann Santana?

3) Will Tampa Bay and Toronto be fighting it out for third in the AL East, or might Toronto and Baltimore be fighting to stay out of the division basement?

4) Who will win the Optimist Prime Blog Award for least-bad announcing?

5) Will someone get me a ticket (okay, two) to go see the Yankees play in Boston on Saturday, 12 April (my birthday)? What about gas money/plane ticket?


If you have answers to any of these, please, share them in a comment! Especially number five...


THREE Days to go!

News N' Notes

So, for the record, I love Fridays. Today in particular.

Anyway, in case you've missed it, some news and notes from around the league:

Radomski avoids prison time. Moral of the story: It's okay to commit crime, as long as you rat out your accomplices, especially if your accomplices are from New York. Sam Waterson's Law and Order universe, this is not.


Santana would get to choose whether or not to exercise 2014 option. Isn't this a fancy way of saying that Santana's now got an opt-out clause? Have the Mets learned nothing re: A-Rod? I mean, I know Santana's agent is not Boras, but still, that can't be the smartest move the Mets have ever made.


Curt Schilling has shoulder injury and disagrees with team over surgery/no surgery. All that blogging must have taken a toll. Guess it's on the list of verboten off-season activities such as motorcycle riding and pick up basketball...


FIVE days to go.

If My Grad School Application Could Talk...

...It'd be saying, finally, what took you so darned long?

The application is complete, just need my transcripts and professors' recommendations, and am on my way to getting that taken care of as well.

It will be a great feeling when I no longer have this lurking over my head like the giant black anvil of doom.


As for my thesis, I'm on page 15 of what will theoretically become 80. Tomorrow I'm going to work on The Season for Sunday (yum!) and attempt to catch our school's production of The Vagina Monologues as my friend is involved in the production. Saturday and Sunday, then, I'll be doing more work on the thesis, but over all, while I'm not progressing perfectly, I am progressing better than I thought I'd be.


SIX days to go.

Actually, at this rate, it's almost five.

You Know Spring Training's Right Around the Corner When...

...Oh, it begins invading your dreams...


Okay, so I haven't had any sanity for a few months now, but I have a feeling you knew that.

Is it me or does it feel like we're getting all the late nineties guys back? From the '98 team we have Posada, Jeter, Rivera, Pettitte still playing. Joe Girardi is our manager.

David Cone is in the broadcast booth, which also houses Paul O'Neil (and a buncha others, but not on the '98 team), and now, Tino Martinez will also be at Spring Training.


I don't know about you, but when I got Paul O'Neil, Tino Martinez, Derek Jeter, Jorge Posada, Joe Girardi, Mo Rivera, Andy Pettitte an David Cone all in the same building?

Those are some real good vibes.


Seven to go.

Genie in a Lamp

(with much thanks to Jim Johnson of The Bronx Block who helped with many of these...)


The Scene: The clubhouse, Legends Field, Tampa Bay, Florida. All Yankees' players who played a noticeable role in the 2007 New York Yankees and have returned for another year are sitting on folding chairs in a circle. I, Rebecca, Optimist Prime, am standing in the middle with a Genie lamp. I start.

Me: Okay guys, so I got this genie lamp, bought it a cheap thrift place in Jersey. I tested it and it works--I mean, I'm standing here in front of you all right now, right?

Anyway, so I'm going to pass this around, and you all get one wish, and only one wish. You're not allowed to wish for more wishes, and you're not allowed to wish for the steroid/HGH thing to go away, because we ALL wish that and thus it wouldn't be fun to get the same thing over and over again.

We'll start in line-up order, then proceed to rotation, bench and bullpen. John-ny Da-mon, you're up first.




Damon: Leading off again? Well, if I have to...I wish for an end to the dress code and the ability to return to caveman.

Me: Mmm, long hair is very awesome, but at the same time, I'm not sure you want do something here you did back in Boston...

Damon: I won a World Series there.

Me: Nevermind. Grow that hair as long as you want. Mr. Captain, you're next.

Jeter: Just one wish? Are you kidding me? Okay, I wish...to have the girls over me like Tom Brady.

Me: They are.

Jeter: B-b-but he has Giselle.

Me: So, didn't you have Jessica Alba at one point? Shut it, enjoy it, and stop grounding into those damned double plays. Señor Abreu, Ud. es pròximo...


Abreu: Bien, bien. I wish...to conquer the wall.


Me: You mean, unless Jeffery Maier is in the first row, you're playing Baltimore and it's October.


Abreu: The fallacy in that argument is the idea of playing Baltimore in October.


Me: Point taken. A-Rod, how about an MVP wish?


A-Rod: I don't want the MVP. I want the World Series.

Me: Yes, but what do you wish for?

A-Rod: Hmmm...half price tickets for blo--


Me: You're married. Jorge, give me something good.


Posada: Okay...I wish to have a better season than last year, and some sort of urine-like cream to rub on my hands, without being actual, y'know, urine.

Me: I'm sure you can find it somewhere.

Posada: You think I haven't tried?


Me: Riiiight. Okay. Whaddya know, Robbie Canò, it's your turn...

Canò: Whaddya know, I hate that. I wish for the ability to run the bases.

Me: Oops, sorry. Best wish so far, in my opinion. Mr. Matsui, wanna see if you can outdo him?


Matsui: Okay, how about...knee replacement surgery.

Me: Is it really that bad?

Matsui: I'm not telling. I apologize for wishing for it, though.

Me: It's a genie lamp. You don't have to apologize. Giambino, you're shot.


Giambi: Okay, I wish to...actually play first base once in a while.

Me: Just don't get weird foot infections.

Giambi: That won't be an issue now...

Me: Ah, yes, how soon we forget. Melkman, vamos!


Melky: I would love a no-trade clause. I hate being bait. I end up smelling like fish.


Me: I don't like you smelling like fish, either. Right, that's it for the line-up, let's go to the rotation, and Wanger, you're up first.



Chien Ming Wang: I wish....to get rid of the strikeout.

Me: Tough luck changing the most basic rule of the game. Right then, Mr. Pettitte?


Andy Pettitte: To go out strong, no questions asked.

Me: Thanks for coming back. No questions asked. Mr. Mussina?


Mike Mussina: To find the corners.

Me: Sounds reasonable. Phil Franchise?


Phil Hughes: Some Alton Brown cooking before every game.

Me: Ah, right, you said you liked that guy on your blog!

Phil: You read my blog?

Me: 'Course I do! And if my stats don't lie, you read mine as well!

Phil: Stalker.

Me: Probably. Give the lamp to Joba here...


Joba Chamberlain: I'd love a never-ending supply of bug repellent.

Me: I know some people, I'll see what I can do. Mr. President?


Ian Kennedy: I'm not the President. Melky took my wish...but I guess I wish that I can convince everyone it's a good thing they didn't give me up for Santana.

Me: Hey man, I didn't want Santana for you or Phil. Willl--sooooonn?

Wilson Betemit: I wish to be able to hit from the right side.

Me: Hmm, I think a lot of us do as well. Good choice. Shelley? Please, no arm bash.....that hurt.


Shelley Duncan: Oops. I wish to take on Chuck Norris and Jack Bauer. At the same time.

Me: You'd win.

Shelley: I know.

Me: I'd still pay to see it. Josè Molina?


José Molina: Nada. Happy is as happy does.


Me: You have to wish for something.

Josè: What do you think the back up goalie for Martin Brodeur wishes for? He's got the easiest job in the league...

Me: He probably wishes to play more than once a month.

Josè: I already do.

Me: Oh. Okay. Happy is as happy does. Going to the bullpen now, Mr. Farnsworth, you're up first.


Kyle Farnsworth: Do I actually need to say that I wish to find the @#$@#$ strike zone, and not lose it every other pitch?

Me: Probably not but you just did. Señor Veras?


Josè Veras: For people to appreciate that I actually do get people out once in a while.

Me: I do! Mr. Henn?


Sean Henn: To get an out. Any out. I'm not picky.


Me: That would be really, really nice. You could probably get me out, wanna try it?


Sean: Are you a major league hitter?

Me: I can pretend. Mr. Bruney?


Brian Bruney: To apologize to that chair.


Me: You're sitting on it.


Brian: Wha?


Me: I had it brought in special.


Brian: Okay. Listen, chair, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to hurt you, I was just having a bad day.


Chair: creaks


Me: Sounds like apology accepted! That leaves us...K-Ram, give us something good!


Edwar Ramirez: How about to not have to pitch with the bases loaded, ever again?

Me: Works great! And last, but certainly not least, the man of the hour, Mr. Sandman, Mo!


Mariano Rivera: I would love for everyone to read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and understand the true significance of 42.


Me: What a coincidence, I wish that too! I mean it is the answer to life...


Mo: ....The universe...


Me: ...And everything. Well guys, let's see if this lamp doesn't work as well for you as it did for me. Now, very last thing I got to do is make one more wish for myself, and that's to get out of here before the security dudes catch me....


And so I rub the lamp, wishing greatly to be teleported back to Syracuse, NY, where I have a chapter of neurology and two chapters of international law to read before the night's out, but the more I rub, the less that happens...so, having spent my one and only wish, I am trapped, here, at Legend's Field...

...Oh well, I might as well make the most of it...


Hey, dude, Jeter, can I take a couple swings with that bat?






EIGHT days to go!

For Those Of You Who Love New Jersey(s)

Phil Hughes stated on his blog that he's got a brand-spanking new jersey number: 34. So, I'm afraid all of you with #65 jerseys are probably going to have to get that wallet out again...unless you're really, really good with a sewing machine.


***


On another note, entirely, if you live in NY or NJ and you're a registered Republican or Democrat, please, please, please, vote tomorrow. Take the hour out of your day and go and vote.

I won't bash you with my personal preferences, except that I'm a registered independent.

Seriously, though, you can't complain about it if you don't vote for it, okay?


Nine days to go...

Pfft, Groundhogs

Well, I mean, it's actually seven weeks until March 21st, so technically, yes, there are six more weeks of winter, but I mean, really, like the groundhog's ever right about these things...


Anyway, the Blog Plan for Spring Training is as follows--and I'll do my best to actually, y'know, stick to it:

Most of this month won't be too totally different than the previous ones. I'll try to do the once-a-day update thing, unless something totally news/blogworthy occurs, and of course, a celebratory on the fourteenth and updates on The Season every Sunday, for the few of you that read it. Oh, and I'll liveblog the Super Bowl, because, well, I can.

March, however, is gonna be all sorts of fun.

I'm going to do a team-preview-a-day, starting March 1st, in alphabetical order (so I can save the best for last and yet have a convincing argument that it's not favoritism, even if it blatantly is). Some of these previews will be fairly in-depth, some won't be quite so much, and the reasoning behind this is that a) Yankee fans are probably more concerned about AL teams than NL teams, especially AL East teams, and b) depending on the day and how much or little of coursework I've gotten done, I might not have time to fully research. I will, of course, do the best I can.


I probably won't blog every spring training game, but I'll do what I can, and, who knows, maybe attempt a live blog on a Saturday or Sunday for the heck of it.


So that is the grand plan, regardless of what any little furball groundhog has to say about it...

(I mean, does no one even ask Scooter what he thinks?!)

Finally February!

Wow.

You know, yesterday I thought there were about five or six more days of January to get through, especially given how cold it got last night, but I woke up today and I turned the calendar page...and right now, I'm about to do it again.

This time I'll go from 31 January to 1 February.

Sure, there's a lot of winter left up in Syracuse, but, as I'd tell myself as a kid, by the time we get out of this month, people will be pitching and swinging again.

I have to say, it's a slightly odd feeling, for a few reasons.

The first is that, even if the last month was kind of slow (until Tuesday), it was one heck of an offseason from a Yankees perspective: new manager, new coaching staff, A-Rod hoopla, getting Mo, Po and Andy to come back, the report-that-must-not-be-named, Santanamania...

Hard to believe it's only been three months. Hard to believe it's been as long as three months. I go back and forth.

It's an odd feeling because October 2007 seems like it was such a long time ago, feels so far removed from now, but it's really not.


On a more personal level, it's an odd feeling because it means the blog's closing in on a five month anniversary and (coincidentally?) 25.000 views. I can't describe the feeling, knowing that something I started more or less on a whim has grown into something that was good enough to survive the off-season.

What's more, I can't describe the feeling this past week has given me--and the irony of it all is that I'm a journalism school reject. That's life though, isn't it?


So now there are just fourteen days to go, and indeed, there are a lot of people already down in Florida or Arizona, and the potential of Spring is soon to be at its most vibrant.


Whoever said February was a boring month is probably just a college football fan.

Knitting Knotes (or something like that)

I am a Yankees' blogger, sure, but I am also a woman.

So, on occasion, I do (typically) female stuff, like knitting. I haven't made anything in ages, but I got the itch to do it again this weekend, so I made myself a rather simple scarf.





The color doesn't show quite right on the picture, but it's actually a very nice burgundy.


Anyway.

If you haven't checked out Phil Hughes' new blog, you should.

Last night he had a post up where you could submit questions and he would answer a few...some of the ones submitted are really good so far, so it should be fun to read his responses.



I don't know about you guys, but I cannot wait for February 14th....only 22 days from now!