If a Baseball Game was Played in Florida and No One Broadcasts It, Was It Really Played?

It's almost three in the morning. I have places to go and things to do a couple of hours from now but I'm sitting here staring at the computer because my toe hurts. I seem to have veered into the land of over-training and have sprained the damn thing. I've tried ignoring the pain, meditation, stretching the foot, massaging the toe, but to no avail. I'm likely going to have to resort to ibuprofen but I'm reluctant to hop/hobble my way over to the medicine cabinet so close to a time when I have to be doing other things.

It's sort of similar to the way I feel about baseball right now. (So, that wasn't just a whine; I have a point in here somewhere.) I would really prefer to not have to pay any attention to it. I would like to be doing better, more useful things with my time. But the dull ache just won't go away no matter what I try and so it's going to drag me along into another season.

And just like the fact that I will get my seven miles in tonight, despite all my moaning: I'll enjoy the baseball season, despite hating it.

But mostly I'm bored with spring training.

Also, I've come to the conclusion that Ryan Sweeney is a tease, a baseball coquette if you will. You see the kid for the first time (because who really watches the A's?) and he's huge. He absolutely looks the part of a baseball player. Cerebrally, you understand that he's not much of a hitter but you look at him in the box and you kind of forget. Then he swings.