Spring training invites romance. It’s the basis of the seasonal vocabulary, all rebirth and growth and optimism. But this invitation is incidental: Spring training, if it is going to be at all enjoyable, requires romance.
If you are not romantic about the idea of grown men performing basic stretches in workout shorts, it will be insufferable. If you are not romantic about oddly positioned photography from beat writers at a distance, it will mean nothing. If you are not romantic about games with a steady stream of substitutions for players you’ve never seen, there is no reason to watch.