IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR . . .

Yankee tickets go on sale in thirty minutes. As the Cheechster was saying the other day, I never thought it would happen, but I too am excited for April to roll around. Fresh start, that's what I say. Even if "fresh" doesn't necessarily mean young, new, hearty, excited, thrilled-to-just-be-in-the-majors pitchers. Sigh. How come no one listens to me ...

The dilemma, though, as C has so graciously pointed out, is that ticket prices are higher. A lot higher. Which means that the hot dog prices are also higher. And forget my beloved cold cheese fries. I'm sorry, but if the hot dog doesn't do my laundry and rotate my tires and write my draft decisions for me, I'm not paying $9.50 for it.

So ... I must whittle my wish list down to those few games that I really want to see, that I really can see. I need to find the perfect evening that I can take Appa out for some $8.00 peanuts and a $15.75 beer. I need to still be able to pay my mortgage. I need to just get off my lazy butt and go to a local bar to watch the games with my friends. A $7.00 Black Russian with Grey Goose and some HOT french fries -- oh sorry, freedom fries (are we still hating France, or is that over now?) -- at the local joint make any victory seem all the sweeter.

Thus, my weird wish list o' games for the 2005 season is as follows: Opening Day against Boston, a June afternoon against the Chicago Cubs (baaaaaa) and a September evening against Boston. I hate Boston. I might even be sick of Boston. And yet I am compelled.

Bring on the $7.75 cotton candy.