Time begins on Opening Day

Welcome back, baseball.

Yes, I know that technically yesterday was Opening Day. For me, though, the season doesn't officially start until the San Francisco Giants play their first game, which they will this afternoon.

Here's hoping the awesomely talented but incredibly ancient everyday players hold up to the stress of a 162-game campaign, and that the pitching staff — led by possibly the most imposing starter in the game today, Jason Schmidt — comes through as we know they can.

Take care of the knee and get back in the lineup soon, Barry.

So in honor of the most important day on the annual sports calendar, everyone sing along with me...

Take me out to the ball game (where reserved seat tickets start at $24 on weekends, parking will set you back at least $20, and you'll have blown another $60 by the time you eat, drink, and pick up a program)

Take me out with the crowd (some of whom might be terrorists, so everyone's going to have to undergo a strip search and bag check)

Buy me some peanuts (loaded with fat and carbohydrates — replace with tofu) and Cracker Jack (because "cracker" is a pejorative term for white folks from the Deep South and therefore perpetuates negative ethnic stereotypes, and because "Jack" is a masculine designation and therefore exclusionary of more than half the population, this product will hereafter be referred to as "Diversity Crunch")

I won't care if I never get back (thus avoiding parental responsibility, and adding to the nation's sorry statistics on deadbeat dads)

Let me root, root, root for the Giants (you and your so-called "home team" can take a hike)

If they don't win (or alternatively, if they take steroids or other performance-enhancing substances, demand exorbitant salaries, stage a player walkout, refuse to sign autographs, get hauled in on domestic violence charges, or otherwise fail to live up to their status as the Idols of American Youth), it's a shame

For it's one, two, three strikes you're out (at least in California, thanks to Proposition 184)

At the old (insensitive adjective: let's say "maturity enhanced" instead) ball game!

PLAY BALL!

(And for our readers in Washington D.C., doesn't it feel great to be back in the fraternity again? Go Nationals! Except when they're playing the G-men, that is.)