Though Winter grips us yet, and snow is still a threat,
And Spring is just a far-off hazy dream.
Hope can now be found in a certain blissful sound,
That causes every eye to brightly gleam.
For way down Florida way the lads arrive to play,
The game that rises high above them all.
In Arizona too, the same is clearly true,
All’s ready with the bat and glove and ball.
You can’t judge it by the date nor the icicles on the gate,
It doesn’t matter what the climate brings.
When players all report to play the greatest sport,
It’s clear without a doubt that it is Spring.
You’ll surely know the score when the horsehide starts to soar,
And every team looks ready to be champs.
It’s the greatest time of year, Winter’s gone and Spring is here,
For there’s Baseball flowing forth from training camps.
So take this sage advice: don’t look for lack of ice,
Nor the garden that begins to look revived.
Budding blooms are not the sign, not the birds among the pines.
That indicates that Springtime has arrived.
Those signs are just canards, ignore what’s in your yards,
Turn your eyes toward the South, your heart will sing.
Watch the pitch, the hit, the catch; meaning to these things attach,
For it’s Baseball that’s the truest sign of Spring.
Today’s Fact Cetera
The average life span of a major league baseball is 7 pitches.