I still don’t think I’m in “baseball mode” yet. Even as I weave my way through more fantasy drafts than should be allowed by law (with the total payout being, um, lemme get the calculator… nothing), I still haven’t gotten the itch I usually get for the start of the season. Not that I’m as huge of a baseball fan as I once was, but there’s still something about getting to the ball park and letting time slow down for awhile, with open air and sun and such. Which is why I decided that I just might head down for the Indianapolis Indians opener next Thursday. It’s a 2 pm start, on my day off, so I hoped maybe it wouldn’t be terribly crowded. Now they announce that Curt Schilling is going to be the starter for visiting Pawtucket (maybe it was an itchy trigger finger, but I almost spelled that as “Pawfu…” you get the idea. Oops!), its likely to be a madhouse. Hopefully I’m wrong, because I still plan on going to the game, but if there’s one thing I hate worse than Red Sox fans, its Red Sox fans with a reason to be obnoxious Red Sox fans. That first game aside, I think I could see myself liking the Indians (Indianapolis’ version, at least). For the first time in probably 15 or so years, my “hometown team” is affiliated with a team I don’t hate with a zillion passions. First it was my beloved Mud Hens hooking up with the Tigers, then it was a move to Columbus, where the allure of dime-a-dog nights and 48oz pitchers of beer on “Thirsty Thursdays” was too great to avoid a Yankees affiliate. Indianapolis is affiliated with the Pirates, and while I stopped really following the Pirates 20 or so years ago (Maybe more like 15, right around the time some lanky, dangly-earring having punk named Bonds came up), the current version seems like a really likeable team, with a roster stacked full of guys that just want to go out, get dirty and win. I don’t know if that will translate to the minor league clubs, but its worth a shot.

Apparently, the “meandering parking” rules still apply at my apartment complex. Is it really that hard to look down when you step out of the car and realize you have 4 feet until you hit the white line that you *might* be taking up two parking spaces? Not that the extra 15 feet of walking hurt me any, but there’s principalities involved here! Then again, this is the same complex where I hear, at least twice a day, loud rumbling bass from a passing car. Who set the clock back to 1993 on that one? Seriously. I want to know.

Finally, props go to Kurt, who hooked me up with the “SledgeHammer!” Season 1 DVD for helping him out a few weeks ago. I just did it to be a pal, maybe to delay my ticket to hell by a week or two and possibly earn a merit badge, but it’s very cool. The show’s just as funny as I remember, and if any of you need a favor done in exchange for the Doogie Howser, M.D. DVD, you know where to find me.