Sports Briefs: Spring Broke

Chris: In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of glove.

Ralphie: Is that the best you got?

Brad: Springtime in general puts me into a good mood. Of course, it is kind of hard to think about spring when your driveway is buried under two feet of snow (no exaggeration), but it does put me into a poetic mood. Poetry is all about the senses, and springtime is all about life and winter is lifelessness. Life floods the senses, and thus leads most people to be more poetic.

Joe: Listen to Nancy: Stay off the drugs, kid.

Chris: Personally, it's a little too early to think about spring and baseball. Once we come upon a fortnight of 100 degree temperatures and it's only mid-May, then I'll start taking notice about how far back in the standings my favorite team is. A good indicator of springtime is when my sweat-soaked pants start sticking to my seat.

Joe: I live in Minnesota. It snows here a lot. My kids are lazy and ungrateful. (A lot like some of my fellow writers at this site.) So, I end up in traction after the 40th or 50th time I have to plow and shovel my driveway by myself. The big spring meltdown saves my life every year. Thanks for nothing, kids.

Brad: Baseball means an end to the wintry weather--springtime is here, and the energy is flowing. It is time for homeruns and ground balls, Cracker Jack and frankfurters. And most importantly it is time for the Cleveland Indians to make it to the World Series.

Ralphie: Uh what?

Joe: There's nothing quite like the smell of the ballpark. Whether it's stale hot dogs, popcorn, pseudo-burgers or spilled beer left over from the last homestand, the wafting odor in the concourse is unmistakable. The prospect of being the 2,349 guy to use the restroom that day is always a jolt to the senses. And, the heavyset season ticket holder seated next to me after his second helping of nachos adds his own unique bouquet of odors as the game wears on.

Chris: Here, here! After my first time experiencing said situation firsthand, and smelling such an aroma, I would not eat bread for a month, confusing the rotten yeast smell for sandwich bread.