America's Passtime

Yeah, I know: a sizeable segment of the population is getting their panties in a wad. MLB spring training has begun.

*Yawn*

I'm not among them; I'm not a baseball fan. To more than a few of you, that last was akin to rank heresy, I'm sure.

Baseball just never caught my fancy the way the NFL did when I was growing up (and some argue I still am). It's not that I haven't tried to be entertained thus: over the years, I've watched a tad of it on TV. Been to a few (very few) games. The last game I attended about 20 years ago -- between the tickets, hotdog and beer -- I found woulda been better spent taking her to a fine dining restaurant, only to get the same standard "you're nice, but nice guys are boring" at the end of the evening (as I got after the ballgame). On top of that, I didn't eat half as well, got beer spilled on me by some drunken yutz behind me, and the home team got shellacked 15-2.

My own career in baseball/softball was comparably unimpressive. At my father's insistence, I did the Little League thing one summer; it sucked. So did I. I was well-versed on the intricacies of catching that weird-shaped pigskin; I looked more like a member of Charlie Brown's team when it came to fielding and hitting.

In fact, I should have learned a lesson as the ball got smaller, and made the correlation with golf, but I didn't and I digress.

I was a tad better with softball; I even got suckered into playing it on a couple of pseudo-competitive leagues at different times after high school, as well as a few challenge matches with other work-place departments and one local law enforcement agency. In that last, my stellar moment came when I threw out a sheriff's deputy as he motored toward second base. A right field rocket, right behind his right ear. He went down like a sack of grain. I was quickly chastised that "putting someone out wasn't meant literally".

Years later, I still drive with one eye over my shoulder in that particular county.

Nawp...like with another sport I dyslove -- basketball -- baseball and I don't dance. I have been known to listen to it on the car radio, when the choice is between that and white noise. White noise wins when I'm trying to take a nap, but while driving that's not such a good option.

So it follows that while fan anticipation for the upcoming season and the Colorado Rockies prospects is on the rise, I *yawn*. The Rockies, in their 12/13/whatever-it-is years career, have made the playoffs once and were eliminated on that occasion in the first round. Since then, they've been the equivalent of a free spot on a bingo card in the NL West (and elsewhere).

This year -- like the last few years -- the talk and anticipation is of a "more competitive, exciting Colorado Rockies" team. A team that tends to pick a month or two to self-destruct, and then does so with gusto.

To be fair and brutally honest here, my criticism isn't based on "what I could do better than" the coaches or players; I, on my best day in my youth, couldn't compete at that level with their worst player on his worst day, period. No, I'd have a better chance in a game with the MLB mascots. Whatever my deficiencies of age, I still have arm enough to throw out the San Diego Chicken.

At a base or behind the ear.

So while yall get excited with the upcoming MLB season, I'll just pass time and patiently suffer through until July.

And the start of NFL training camp.