I continue to have some (read: many) doubts that MLB will play a truncated season this year. And further, I believe if a season doesn’t happen that the owners may lock players out next season, or the union may stage a strike. For that reason I decompressed and waited Saturday for the wayward asteroid to cleave the earth’s atmosphere, rendering us like the pulverized dinosaurs millions of years ago. Alas, it overshot the Earth about as badly as a Mitch Trubisky screen pass.
I enjoyed my uneventful weekend with very limited access to news, baseball or otherwise, while I socially distanced myself from Twitter as much as humanly possible.