It was 37 degrees Monday night at Comerica Park. This isn't surprising. It's April, and April can be cold in Detroit.
You know that. I know that. The folks who run Major League Baseball don't know that.
Or maybe they do and don't care. Because when July rolls around and thick, humid air settles over the Tigers' baseball stadium, you'll have forgotten about this arctic spring.
Short memories are the enemy of change. The enemy of how baseball used to be, too.
Not that I'm normally an advocate of regression — as a rule, I favor progression, and baseball, like many aspects of our past society, got some things wrong.