Sitting and watching a heavy snowfall, I am angry with the Cleveland Indians.
For a guy who lives within 50 miles of Lake Erie, I am not a winter person. I don't know about where you live, but where I live it's more than cold and snow; it's slate-gray skies, day after day after day. The lack of sunshine weighs on me and by February, without holidays to distract me, I am going crazy.
The way I get through it is baseball. I’m a baseball guy and my sport comes to the rescue every year, just when I need it the most. I arrive at spring the way a person escaping an unruly mob might feel once they‘ve reached safety: Relieved and exhausted and a little scarred by the whole experience. There to greet my escape every year is usually the Cleveland Indians.
Come February, I sta ...
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Article written by Rich Primo
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