Love of the Sox
It happens every year. The winter drags on, snow piles up, the wind whips down from the Arctic, and it seems that February will never end. But in my heart, I'm wearing shorts, the sky is clear and the breeze is warm. This morning on TV, I saw a clip of a pale Johnny Damon, swinging his bat languidly in the Florida sun, laughing behind his sunglasses as he shagged flies in the outfield. Baseball is back.