This has not felt like the typically interminable offseason. There are reasons for that — the fact that time has utterly flattened for various reasons, that I became a fan of European soccer to fill the hours, an increasing taste for the finer bourbons out there — but whatever it is, doesn’t it feel like last season just ended? If we’re going to call 2020 a season, anyway. Yes, it was baseball, and yes, Shane Bieber was brilliant as was José Ramírez.
Cleveland even made the postseason, for a second at least.
It was so brief though, a bizarre shadow of a memory.