The last time I went to a Royals game at Royals Kauffman Stadium (it'll always be Royals Stadium to lifelong fans like me), it was 1996. Mike Sweeney was riding the bench. Johnny Damon was lifted for a pinch-hitter when the opposing team brought in a left-handed pitcher. And the place was as quiet as a library.

It's supposed to be a rebuilding year. The Royals start their season with four young, inexperienced pitchers in their starting rotation and a neo-veteran lefty who's languished for several years, brought in for a variety of reasons, none of which would do for most teams: He's left-handed, he can throw some innings, he's more experienced than the rest of the rotation, and there's a slight chance this is the first time he's gotten a fair shake. And they've started the season without their star center fielder.

Every time I turn on the radio or go online, I hear about how the Bush Dictatorship has plunged us into another Vietnam or how I'm a redneck just like everyone else who ever voted Republican. And at work, I'm buried in Backup Exec problems, a program so bad that it continues to make me think its main purpose for being written was industrial sabotage.

When I was checking up on some facts on Joe Jackson, I found the free Wikipedia to be of use. In the very well-done account of the Black Sox scandal (to which I made some minor edits, replacing a couple of odd word choices and fixing some commas), I noticed a link to a non-existent biography of pitcher and ringleader Eddie Cicotte. So I whipped out my Baseball Encyclopedia, opened it up to Cicotte's statistics, did a couple of Web searches to grab some more detail and check my own memory, and based on those references, I wrote one.

Pete Rose really isn't worth this sentence.

The Phillies just signed the most popular slugger in Cleveland Indians' history, inking a 6-year, $87 million deal.

Bottom of the ninth inning. Two out. The lightning-fast Rafael Furcal on third base. The aged Julio Franco on first. Down by two runs. Two men left on the bench: Wes Helms, who'll be pinch-hitting if pitcher John Smoltz comes up later in the inning, and Steve Torrealba, your .059(!)-hitting third-string catcher.

Please indulge me one last time this season to write about my beloved, who have currently lost 99 games and are going to make one last valiant attempt to avoid losing 100 this year.

The way baseball ought to be, the way men ought to be. The story of community and an adopted daughter. This story needs no further comment from me.

Well, it's strike day. I haven't talked about it. I was hoping if I ignored it, it would go away. That strategy rarely works, but there's always a first time.