For Pete Rose's Sake...

Please, please please give me some baseball. I'm not making it here. The offseason's a whiteout blizzard, and I'm disoriented, hungry, and desperate. I'm contemplating leaving my stranded vehicle to face the elements, only to wind up frozen solid, dug out by a St. Bernard with a barrel around his neck. I've tried distracting myself with some good literature, only to find myself at the bookstore with some bargain book about the World Series, poring over the Tigers' entries with a fervor akin to Mrs. Robinson sizing up young Benjamin Braddock.

I'm seriously out of control. Now, I'm without MLB Network, where one Peter Gammons now holds forth in sagely wisdom. The Tigers web site sees fit to tell us about the holiday traditions of one Zach Miner. I get the idea, but it fails to satisfy the need for BASEBALL, you savvy?

Ugh, it's not even January yet. I suggest you send in some comments to salvage what's left of my ever-dwindling faculties. Give me some off-season activities, like sorting through a gallon jar of buttons, alphabetizing my husband's basketball card collection, or knitting a thousand dish cloths. Maybe a unique and challenging charity project to help some suffering little children. Perhaps Grandy would accept a mildly addled fan's assistance in putting the finishing touches to his coda in Detroit, the charity hoops event.

I'm reduced to learning trivia like no starting pitcher for the Padres in the 1984 World Series made it past the fifth inning. Sigh.