Greetings dear readers from Florida, which I call “the set for America’s Most Wanted.”
Sorry for the disappearing act the last few days. Won’t take off again without at least posting a “Gone Fishing” sign.
Drove along Alligator Alley this morning. It’s a highway, north of the Everglades. There’s nothing there except an Indian Reservation housing a casino and alligators. Lots and lots of them.
I like stopping and watching them sun themselves on the side of the water. There is, of course, a chain link fence separating the road from the beasts not much more evolved than the dinosaurs and thousands of square miles of nothing.
Have always liked Florida because of spring training. When I covered the Orioles in the early 1990s, it was a great time. Unlike the Yankees and Mets, both of which have circus-like tendencies, covering the Orioles was a lot more laid back.
It was a smaller beat, just a handful of guys, and the people with the team, because of where they were from, are different from those in New York, who always seem stressed out. No doubt, from the pressure put on by my colleagues and me.
We’d be done writing by 5, play basketball until 7, then eat seafood and go to the movies. What could be better?
I’ll always associate Florida with spring training, and I’m sure others do, too.
That’s why I don’t know if regular season baseball will ever make it down here. Too many people on fixed incomes. Too much to do in the summer outdoors. Too hot during the summer. Too many transplants with allegiances elsewhere.
Plus, and this can’t be overstated enough, too much poor management from the Marlins and Devil Rays.
Still, a great place to visit during the spring.
It has been raining most of the afternoon, but there’s a guy with a hose wetting down the infield. There will be rain delay tonight.
Count on it.
Going down to say hello to Joe Girardi, then to the Mets clubhouse.