Another season rolls around.

I'm sitting here in Civil Procedure, and I feel like I'm back in middle school.  The Erie Doctrine is killing me, and my mind is wandering, with good reason.  Today is opening day, at least for the Twins, the only team I care about.  And hope springs eternal.  Maybe Batista will overcome the 50 extra pounds he's carrying and not suck.  Maybe Bartlett, Liriano, and Kubel will eventually get the time they so richly deserve.  Maybe Mauer and Morneau will start playing like the Wal-Mart version of Maris and Mantle, rather than as their alter-egos "Slaphitterman" (I've got nothing against Joe), and "Blunderboy, the hitless wonder".  

And maybe Lohse will live up to our (low) expectations, and do well, and maybe White and Castillo will make TR and Gardy look like geniuses rather than dunderheads with too much love for fellow members of the AARP, or beneficiaries of the make-a-wish for aging and decrepit ballplayers.  Maybe it will all work out.

I know I'm sounding negative, but don't read this that way.  Because the maybes are actually maybes.  My head is telling me that the Twins are going to be distressingly mediocre once again. But I'm looking out the window and the sun is shining, and the grass is greening, and my Twins-loving heart will not permit any such morose outlook.  This is our year.