The car is humming. The not so sound proof windows whistle as we hurl ourselves 90 miles per hour down the Interstate 8 freeway to Arizona. We’re going to Spring Training. It’s always a welcomed trip; the winter months give way to spring; the frigid cold melts; football passes the baton to baseball. It’s a time of renewal. Hope springs eternal. The slate is cleaned off and even the Pittsburgh Pirates are contenders.
Teams and their fans are raucously chanting some clichéd mantra: “The world is our oyster!” or “This is our year!” or “All we have to do is make the playoffs, then anything is possible!”
In spring, everyone is a champion (speaking of clichés).
But me, I’m more reserved with my expectations. Being a Padre fan, I’ve learned to keep my heart cold and my thoughts grounded. And at this moment, like every year on this long, straight desert road, I can only think about one thing.