Well, now that the Buccaneers are out of it, my sports interests turn back to baseball. Just a few minutes ago I purchased Spring Training tickets. I've got this real bond with baseball. Not because I was all that good at it (I held my own as a kid, even making the All-Star team one year but then again, I was 12!) but because I just love the flow of the game. It relaxes me as it excites me, if that makes sense. Of course I've always known my love for baseball is rooted much deeper than the game itself. Baseball always brings me back to my father. He loves it more than I do, if that's possible. He not only instilled the beauty of the game in me, he shared it with me. It became our thing. You know how teenage boys become rebelious and clash with their fathers at that certain age? Well,I grew my hair out and learned to play guitar, and eventhough I know my dad couldn't quite understand, we still discussed the box scores every morning. I remember my dad waking me up one morning at 6:30 before he took off to work. I was in college. I'd had a gig the night before and got home around 3 AM. He woke me up to tell me the Dodgers had lost overnight on the West Coast, and so the Braves, who had won earlier that night (which I knew from checking out the score on TV during my set break at the gig) had gained ground in the National League West. It was 1982. I was 17 years old. As I burped beer from a few hours back, I asked details on the Dodger pitching staff. Had San Diego beat Hershiser? Yeah, baseball and my dad, forever linked in my heart. Now, as I discuss the upcoming season with my 11 year old son, I can't wait to make that Summer trek to the ball park (even if it is in a dome) with my dad and son at my side. Three generations held together by two common interests: the love of baseball and each other. Play ball. Take care. Later, Butch