Once again, I am obligated to remind everyone that what happens in March might mean a lot to someone who matters, but it’s imperative that we don’t let our observations to lead us to believe that these events really matter. If you need the indulgence, by all means, put your hands together gently for a bit of a golf clap when Asdrubal Cabrera scores from second and Jason Kipnis beats a rundown or when Indians you’ve never really heard of hit the ball over the fence when the pitcher has a number higher than 66.
How much of it really means anything? The players are there to get the kinks out, the coaches want the players to get a feel for the routine, and it’s a month-long dress rehearsal for everyone else in the organization. For the fans, it’s nothing. We might listen on the radio, probably because the more Tom Hamilton we have in our lives, the more comfortable we feel. We might long for the days of Matt and Rick, if only to see the names we got excited about on paper in their new Indians threads, but it’s only something resembling baseball. There isn’t much of anything that resembles the genuine article, in Florida or Arizona, until the calendar turns to April.