If I had my own recurring post, I’d probably title it “On the John.”

The start of the season is less than a week away. The Yankee staff are packing up gloves, bats, helmets, balls, and protective equipment. The players are getting their personal effects in order for shipping to their homes or The Bronx. Final Roster moves are being made as Joe Torre breaks the dissappointing news to the boys who won’t be making the trip North.

While the business in Florida is winding-down, the hustle and bustle has begun in The Stadium. Heaps of hot dogs, bushels of buns, kegs of ketchup, masses of mustard, piles of pretzels, pallets of plastic beer bottles, oodles of onions, and a plentitude of peanuts arrive on her docks and find the way to their respective staging areas.

The Yankee grounds crew is meticulously fertilizing & fluffing, manicuring & mending, pruning & plucking in preparation for bats, balls, and bodies to test the storied field.

In the homes of fans all across the country, hats, jerseys, and “Mattingly” t-shirts are being dusted off. The anticipation is as thick as traffic on The Deegan in the hour before a game. Watercooler talk of most anything has been replaced by baseball.

In just a few days, Yankee Stadium will shed her winter coat. As we wait for baseball to begin, so does The Stadium. The big ballpark will embrace the children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren of those who anxiously entered her gates a century before. Fans will happily file-in with tickets in hand. As they enter the tunnel to find their seats, the view of her field grows larger, greener, magnificent, and overwhelming. The smell of hot dogs, pretzels and the sounds of the stadium are intoxicating.

Baseball’s cathedral is alive.

The players take the field and as the umpire declares “Play ball!”, the cloak is lifted! Five months without baseball is over.

All is right again.