Beer, Hotdogs and False Hope

Baseball season has begun, and some hopeless fans actually think this is the year for their team.

Nash Herringtonby Nash Herrington

There's nothing quite like the start of baseball season.  Spring is beginning to peek around the corner, backyard bar-b-ques are filling up the schedules of families and drunk guys all over the country.  And then there's my favorite part of April baseball: Childish fans with a knack for short-term memory and self-inflicted emotion abuse.

Ahh yes, I'm talking about the "traditionalists" in Baltimore, the young hopefuls in St. Petersburg and of course the dunce-cap-wearing idiots in D.C.  They haven't figured out how to understand the constitution OR the American people for decades.  Why they feel they can handle America's Great Pasttime is beyond me.

Here's the thing.  When all is said and done, it's going to be the very same teams in the playoffs as usual.  There may be a few randoms, but we all know that the Yankees, Red Sox, Phillies, Cardinals, Angels and whoever decides to suck the least in the NL West will be a part of the mix.  I'm sorry AL Central.  I know you're the only conference I didn't include, but there aren't even enough hopeful fans of your teams for you to be considered.  They've been let down enough lately they actually know better.

I thought we might avoid the ridiculousness of the April-hope this year, but I was abruptly reprimanded for my stupidity when I caught a story out of Balitmore that said the Orioles were having their best start since 1997.  Why are you doing this to Oriole fans, Baltimore media?  Have you no souls?  Last time I checked, Cal Ripkin Jr. is long gone.  Your luck has run out.

And I know I have not said anything to praise the Giants or Texas Rangers.  Yes, they went to the World Series.  And yes, the Giants even pulled off a victory.  Enjoy your 15 minutes of fame San Fran, because soon you will surely drop into yet another 60 years of obscurity.  Sorry Steve Perry.  I always pick your song at a karaoke bar if that helps.

Baseball is my favorite sport.  But even I can admit that 162 regular season games is a hefty pill to swallow.  How about we all make a deal.  Lets have fun taking dates to the games for the next few months.  Buy her a few beers, talk about life and see if you can catch her a foul ball for a souvenir.  Then, after the all star break, we can get all riled up and crazy about the teams that still matter.  Sound good to you?  Ahh, I knew you'd see it my way!

I would advise against getting out of the way at the last second on the foul ball souvenir part though.  Didn't turn out too well for that guy down in Houston last year.

I'll be back soon.  Until then, good luck figuring things out on your own!