Play ball, and all of that. I'll likely be posting on the game as the season progresses, as I watch games from the Collegiate Summer League to the Majors, and burrow deeper into my shelf of baseball books and storehouse of vivid and vague memories. Baseball's a beautiful game, and a beautiful game to write about, but I find myself courting a deadly sentimentality and nostalgia. I'll try to leaven my immoderate love of the game, its history, and my lifelong fandom with skepticism and anti-melodrama—if possible. As a writer, it's tough to guard against when your subject is maddeningly perfect, perennially heartbreaking, fascinatingly logical yet oftentimes beyond description, urgently tied to your adolescence, occurs every Spring, and renews a kid-like spirit burdened with grown-up perspective. But I'll try.