As the players all get together to swap stories of their Christmas presents and prepare for (they hope) another professional season, I’m reminded of a story swapped to me many years ago. It’s one that has an important bearing on what you may see, or not see, while the White Sox are at Camelback Ranch.
Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and my son, Will, was in Minor League Little League, one of the dads who helped out us coaches really knew his stuff. He was kind of a rotund guy, didn’t look very athletic, but one day I asked him if he’d played ball.