It’s time to set aside our nagging baseball worries for a moment, friends. Right now there are no Albert contracts, no Waino elbows, no scrubs among the studs.
Opening Day is for joy.
Tomorrow is about Mike Shannon’s laugh crackling over the radio and Pat Parris’ fake tan glowing from your TV. It’s about donning lucky game-day undies, downing a brew and a dog, and watching Albert straight mash.
Tomorrow is about the promise of warmer days and extra innings. It’s about the possibility of the next seven months leading anywhere.
But Friday? Oh, Friday it’s on.