JUPITER, Fla. • Mike Shildt’s arms were folded loosely across his chest, as they often are. His bat was tucked beneath his left arm, its barrel pointing in the direction of his walk, as it often is and often does. His hat, like usual, was pulled down low over his glasses. His eyes, as always, captured all.
Rare is the team that, on the final day of camp, reflects on the experience and determines, well, this team is going nowhere. Optimism should be doled out carefully in March. Not everything down here was sunshine and blue skies.