I was thinking tonight as I am getting my place ready for the FanFest, thinking about how over the past few springs I get really excited about the team, and by the end of those past few seasons the losses and the injuries and the trades take the wind out of the most optimistic sails. But of course the cries of "Next Season!" help us all get through until the next spring. I don't think any of us truly expect to be world beaters this year, but 2011 holds promise. And so it goes. Hence some poetry, some prose.

While it is still raining

I dream of spring training

Unable to quench

My hope each new year

It begins with each season

Without sense

Without reason

Unabated enthusiasm

For my ol' Green and Gold

Though afire in March

Often doused by September

As far back as I can remember

The promise of pennants

Of Octobers and Fingers

Blue Mondays and Hunters

Swingers not bunters

Maybe this will be our year

As I sleep in my cozy warm bed

This cold winter baseball-less night

The image of Custian homers aflight

Dance through my dreams

Like eternal hope springs

Dreams of tarpless stadiums

Of countless crowds

Bart bridges bursting

The masses happy

Crazy and loud

The title returns to Oaktown

The harsh days of summer

Will come quickly no doubt

And hopes for '11 with each

crushing rout

Taylor and Weeks

Cardenas and Carter

And any young prospects

Our Billy may barter

But stay here a while

Stay here with me

Where hope springs eternal

And hope lives in spring