Seven Days

I'm tired of waiting. Yes, I know I'm not the most patient person, but I don't want to talk anymore about the Rangers' off-season moves, the lack of a fifth starter, the iffy injuries, the merit of Jon Daniels' moves, Soriano's outfieldophobia, or anything that isn't in a box score.

The good news is, I only have to wait seven days.

I've been getting calls for the last week asking where my seats are. (See, my friends know that asking whether or not I'm going to the game is just a waste of time.) I did get tickets for an exhibition game on Saturday night, but I'll be working that night. Dammit.

Amanda, my Lovely Betrothed, is as happy about the upcoming season as I am, and will be there for the majority of games with me. Of course, I'd be hard-pressed to match the first game I took her to -- it was a day where I had suite tickets, and ended up hanging out Jon Daniels. She might be a little bit spoiled, but I don't mind so much.

I guess I should try and make a unifying point here, but there really isn't one more than this:

One week from now, I'll be back in Section Five with my Homies. Drinking beer. Screaming for the home team. Loving life.