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Florida Spring Training: Your Guide To Touring The Grapefruit League |
Ah, Spring Training. The crack of the bat. The smell of new leather and pine tar. The umpire’s first call of “Play ball!” The renewed hope that this will be the year for your favorite team. I would be hard pressed to find two other words, which when paired together, conjure up so many different emotions for me. Excitement, nervousness, and elation — just to name a few. These feelings started when I was a kid growing up in Fort Lauderdale, where the New York Yankees came to train for six weeks. They would be lived out during my fifteen seasons as a professional player. My Spring Training experiences began early in life. As a young boy, I went to the games with many hopes and aspirations, as most kids did: to seek an autograph, watch my favorite players, and maybe, if I was lucky, either catch or run down a foul ball. Oh, and there was also the food. Back then it was peanuts, popcorn, Cracker Jacks, or the ever popular stadium dog. Nowhere on earth did a hot dog taste better than at the ballpark. I would go to the game with my father, my brother, or my friends. However I could get there, I would go. It was March and it was time for Spring Training games. I sat in the stands watching the games, aspiring to, one day, be out there playing the game I loved and signing my own name on baseballs and gloves. Didn't find what you were looking for? Try a Google search.
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