Because I like to keep a running account of the weather as we head nearer to the baseball season, I'll note that this morning when I went out for my morning walk here in Chicago, it was a nippy 16 degrees. Again, not terrible it was mid-winter, but we're now 17 days to the start of the baseball season.
As my dad mentioned, what with the 4-inches of snow yesterday, the players might not be using their traditional spikes, but rather skates instead.
Checking in with the elves who are keeping the home fort running, they inform me that Los Angeles is going to be 73 degrees. I swear I could hear laughter in the background, but they insisted it was the TV. Mind you, I like the weather here -- after about 10 minutes of the walk, I'd acclimated fine, and it was even sort of pleasant, at least when in the sun and well-bundled. (Though I took my sunglasses off, since the metal of the frames got too freezer-biting around the ears and nose bridge. Plastic frames are probably better.)
But this isn't about morning walks. It's about trying to play baseball. Keep in mind that although MLB does try to schedule more early games during the daytime, not all all. Many are still at night. So, though you might read that the temperate is, let's say, a balmly 45 -- that's in the sunshine at noon. By 8 PM, it'll be in the 20s or 30s. And also, one can only wonder the difficulty that groundskeepers are having trying to get frozen fields in shape.
On the good side, it's now nearing noon, and the temperature has skyrocketed. Though the "real feel" has decided not to.
The baseball watch continues...
Robert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting.
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