A crisis in faith

More snow.

I'm not made for this. I was born on a beach in Oceanside, California. I saw my first Reds game at age one in Jack Murphy Stadium. I hate snow. I have no patience. I worry too much.

I worry about the Reds rotation. I worry about the bullpen. I worry that we'll keep three catchers, that Juan Castro will make the team, that the young guys will be benched for older, suckier veterans. I worry we'll trade for some hasbeen or neverwas "leadoff" hitter. I worry our homegrown talent - Homer Bailey and Johnny Cueto - will be traded and our twenty year drought of homegrown pitching will continue. I worry Jay Bruce won't get a fair shot at playing center. I worry that Toothpick's ego will cast long, blinding shadows over the field.

In both 2006 and 2007, I had high hopes for my team. In the former year, we were eliminated in the last weekend of the season, thanks to the offense shutting down after a quarter of it was traded away. Last year was a disaster, thanks to the bullpen. This year, though my optimism is still on the radar, I feel anxiety more than excitement. Guess the heart can only break so many times.

We love baseball because it is a game of rebirth. Every year when it's still light at 7pm and buds begin to appear on shivering trees, a new season begins. None of us, even those who are Devil Rays fans, doesn't think to himself, "This could be the year," even if we wouldn't say it aloud for fear of being mocked by others (who also secretly harbor the same feelings.)

I want to believe. But old schoolers control the question marks and dangle strange, frightening quotes in front of the Cincinnati media. It has to be tough for the members of the Reds front office with New Media breathing down their necks, when bored, office types are connected to the internet 24/7, when Average Joe and Jane have access to such a wealth of information that he and she know as much about the game as those who run it. But the oldies need to adjust or die out, just as they should in politics (if only people would stop electing the same failed political dinosaurs who continue to keep this broken system broken.) A lot of the quotes in the media from Dusty and Wayne and Daugherty and a few others seem to be coming from the history books. The dinosaurs died out because they couldn't adapt to change. Or a large meteorite crashed to Earth and destroyed them. Or they froze to death, which given today's weather is quite easy to imagine.

Give us a sign that it's not going to be more of the same old, same old. Remember when Jerry Morron pinch hit Juan Castro for Josh Hamilton? Toothpick said Jeff Keppinger would be third - yes, THIRD - on the depth chart behind Gonzalez and JUAN "HANDS OF LEAD AND BAT OF FOAM" CASTRO. Might as well let Fidel come to bat. He's not doing much these days, anyway.

Put the best team on the field, Reds. Forget that veteran stuff, that sitting young guys on the bench or burying them in the minors so you don't start their arbitration clocks garbage. Jay Bruce is better than Ryan Freel and Norris Hopper combined. Joey Votto is the future, not Scott Hatteberg. Homer Bailey, Johnny Cueto, Edinson Voloquez, and Matt Maloney are the future of a killer rotation, not Josh Fogg and Jeremy Affeldt. Juan Castro has no business being on a Major League roster, especially one that contains two super utility guys in Freel and Jeff Keppinger. And we sure as heck don't need three catchers. We tried that before and it failed miserably. Twice. Fool me once...

I'm tired of losing, tired of disappointment. I want to believe. But old school doesn't cut it in the new school world. You have to have a mix of both. Sure, the little things are important. You have to hit the cutoff man. You have to be able to judge fly balls. You have to get to third on a fly ball hit to right if you're standing on second base with less than two outs. But you can't ignore the numbers.

A glimmer of hope sparked a semi-smile on my face.

Manager Dusty Baker doesn’t necessarily think the Reds need to go slowly with Jay Bruce, even though Bruce is only 20 years old.

“Who says they need to be eased in, No. 1?” Baker said. “I wasn’t eased in. Junior (Griffey) wasn’t eased in. A whole bunch of guys weren’t eased in.

Ahh...a glimmer, a spot of light and warmth in the winter of my heart...perhaps the baseball gods have not abandoned me after all.

Is it March 3 yet? I envy those in Florida right now!