Ah, the transience of the MLB off-season. I, for one, am sitting on the outfield fence this year. It does seem like it was just yesterday that I was on Broad Street, climbing all over every male friend that I have in attempts to gain a bird’s-eye view of what a City of Champions truly looked like. (I mostly just got a face-full of aerial Bud Heavies and some wayward champagne spray, but I figured that came with the territory.)
