Happy birthday, baseball season! You start today!

Hey, baseball, think about it. Things could be much worse. You’re in a game where a batting average of .400 is thought to be an incredible feat. A .400 average would mean that 60% of the time you’re just being used in a game of catch. Compare that to a day in the life of a racquetball. Or, god forbid, a championship tennis ball. If you crunch the numbers you’ve got a pretty sweet life.

Maybe you don’t get to move around as much as a basketball. Maybe you’re not as intense as a dodge ball. But you take one good smack at the right time and you’ll be under glass in the Hall of Fame. Can any other ball say that? Even footballs aren’t as revered.

Baseball, you’re a symbol of America’s Game. Your suffering is for a good reason. You give thousands of people an excuse to sneak out of work, eat expensive hot dogs, drink overpriced beer, and complain. So man up, nancy. Get out there and play hurt. Show ‘em what you’ve got. Okay? Okay. Play Ball!

Wear this shirt: every time your team plays, all season, without washing it. No one knows why it works, it just works. Shut up with your “verified scientific double blind studies shows no statistically significant blah blah blah” crap. This is baseball.

Don’t wear this shirt: covered in peanuts and Cracker Jack. People will remember you as the messy guy and won’t care if you ever come back.

This shirt tells the world: “Hey, can I get a list of how much sick time I’ve got left? No, no reason. I just want to know.”

We call this color: When We Think Of The Reds We Think Of Poor Pete Rose And All His Stupid Decisions

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