Like
most baseball fans, I expect, I'm looking forward to the season
starting up again. While I'm disappointed that it'll only be 60
games, I'll regard the eventual champs (if even a short season can be
successfully pulled off) as legitimate. This is a weird f'ing year
all the way around. Whoever comes out on top will have had endured
an aborted spring training, the COVID pandemic, the scandalous
so-called “negotiations” to set the season's parameters, spring
training 2.0 (I actually prefer the moniker “summer camp” –
s'mores for everyone!) a truncated, weird-ass season plus the
playoffs.
Along
with all that, the players will undergo COVID-related testing, social
distancing and (hopefully, one would think) isolation from fans, bars
and even – to some degree – family. They're also going to have
to endure such indignities as batters having to supply their own pine
tar, pitchers being unable to lick their fingers between pitches and,
horror of horrors! no
spitting!
All
things considered, I think that mentally surviving this clusterbomb
of a season will be uniquely noteworthy among all of MLB's champions.
Hell, at the end of this, I'd even be willing to see everyone else
get one of those stupid “participation awards.”
Play
ball! And in the words of King Arthur in Monty Python and the
Holy Grail, “We shall watch –
and pray.”
No comments:
Post a Comment