And now ... baseball!

Opening day in the major leagues (or, Opening Day), and you know what that means, people.

It means lots of folks in puffy coats huddled together for warmth, pretending 42 degrees feels like July.

It means believing July might eventually arrive ... someday ... maybe.

It means hot dogs, and hot chocolate. The muffled sound clapping makes when swaddled in mittens. The realization that, on this day at least, "warming up in the bullpen" is just a figure of speech.

Oh, yeah. And this:

The fleeting euphoria, which usually only lasts a day, of believing this is the year my cruddy Pittsburgh Pirates finally go 162-0.

("Ah, geez. Them again?" -- The Blobophiles.)

Yes, them again. Deal with it.

Anyway, I have surveyed all the various predictions, and I am pleased to report the status remains quo. Which is to say, the Pirates will be cruddy again, but maybe not horrendously cruddy. They'll only be cruddy enough to finish either last or next-to-last in the NL Central, their customary place of residence.

Oh, there are some addled folk out there who think the Buccos might actually be one of baseball's surprise teams this year, on account of their pitching. It's actually supposed to be pretty decent, if you can believe that. They've got a starting rota led by Jameson Taillon, and a bullpen stuffed with live arms: Felipe Vazquez, Keone Kela, Richard Rodriguez. One of them might even be the next Dave Giusti, or even Kent Tekulve.

(To dredge up a couple Pirates of yore.)

The problem, weirdly, is the Bucs have no bats. Their offense -- once the Pirates' signature -- looks like it's commencing to be stinky. In which case the pitching better be pretty decent, or the upgraded Reds are going to zoom past them, and the Battle for the Cellar will be over before it begins.

("No! Not that stupid Battle for the Cellar again!" -- The Blobphiles.)

Yes, that stupid Battle for the Cellar. It revs up again today.

Settle in, boys and girls. And try to stay warm.