Opening Day, How Far Thou Art

We're only a few days away from opening day. We all know what that means, I can resume my compulsive gambling activities. Now that the WBC is over, great final by the way, just spectacular, I have nothing to do for the next week. I tried kissing a mirror, but it was not nearly as satisfying as Details would have you believe. Swedish med school was another option, but I decided against it.

If opening day were today, life would be so different. I'd be writing stunning, insightful, pullitzer prize winning, baseball commentary like, "CC better win," and, "Boston blows!" I'd email Timmy Geithner and help him come up with a better plan to unfreeze the credit markets and then tell him that the Nationals suck, devastating him and probably causing a life-long struggle with drugs and alcohol.

I'd call up Melky, pretend to be Joe Girardi, and tell him that I planned to announce he was going to be the starting center fielder. Then I'd watch the game and laugh whenever the camera showed the dugout and Melky just looked miserable.

Then I'd call Bronny Cash and tell him I mailed him a new ninja costume that should arrive before first pitch. Then I'd watch the game and laugh whenever the camera showed Cash, tears forming in his eyes, as he realizes there is no ninja suit.

Man, I can't wait for opening day.