I'd just like to take a moment to issue a shout out to my boy Chris "Beane" Benoit, the self-proclaimed "Father Baseball" of years gone by.
"...when the snow started to melt and spring invaded the air on the southern shores of Lake Erie, it was Father Baseball's job to discern if indeed, baseball season had officially begun. How would he do this? With his nose, of course. Father Baseball would sniff that air, take it in, almost like a wineconnoisseurr, toss the air around in his noggin and then declare if indeed it was too early, or if baseball had officially cometh."