Put me in coach. I'm ready to play - today.

In November my wife and I visited our son, his wife and their son, Payton, in Quincy, Illinois. That Sunday I attended Mass at St. Francis Solanus Church. As we left the Mass, someone noted the jacket I was wearing - my Cubs jacket. I'd forgotten - or maybe I hadn't - that, if you're from Quincy, Chicago is a 5 or 6 hour drive across a lot of The Middle of Nowhere. St. Louis is just a short trip south on Highway 61. I was wearing my Cubs jacket to a church service right in the middle of Cardinal nation.

And, yes, someone did say something about it. It was in a fun, kidding sort of way: "You're welcome to join us anytime - and next time you might want to change that jacket." That's the way it was said - in good fun - and that was the way I took it.

I love being part of the Cubs-Cardinals rivalry. Most involved are midwesterners - in heart, if not in location - so we know that this is supposed to be fun - that it's really life's toy department. I count a number of diehard Cards fans among my best friends and favorite people on earth, and I hope they feel the same about me. I don't think too many Yankees or Red Sox fans could say that about each other.

Baseball season's here again. . .

Story's told about an old Cubs' pitcher, Charlie Root. He threw a fastball, and the hitter hit it right back at him - a whistling line drive that hit Root in the face. It knocked out several teeth. Root's manager, Charlie Grimm, was on the mound with the trainer - blood all over Root's uniform, blood all over the mound. Grimm looked into the stands to see where Root's wife was sitting. She was laughing hysterically. When they carried Root into the locker room, Grimm asked Mrs. Root, "Your husband is laid out on the mound, missing teeth, bleeding all over the place. What, exactly, did you find so funny?"

Mrs. Root answered, "Our dinner tonight."

Grimm: "What's so funny about your dinner menu?"

Mrs. Root: "Corn on the cob."

So, the season starts - my fave. We're all hopeful that this can be our year when we all know, good and well, that it'll probably be the Yankees' year again (can I have a big BOOOOO for the Yanks?) Or, as Yogi Berra said, "Deja vu all over again."