Opening Day is tomorrow, and as I write this, there is snow on the ground.
Omaha is certainly no tropical locale, but April is mere days away, and I nearly slipped on ice while retrieving the trash can this morning. Even next week appears headed for some lows below freezing.
The Royals just completed their most exciting offseason in almost a decade, yet expectations are still relatively tempered. They have an MVP candidate under contract for a minimum of seven more seasons, but questions surrounding their pitching abound.
This time next week, I may need to mow the lawn wearing a hoodie and sweats. This time next week, Kansas City will have decided whether or not a downtown stadium will be built. This time next week, we won’t know anything new but overreactions to the season’s first few games will be plentiful.
Typically at this time of year, I would offer a slate of bold predictions about the Royals’ upcoming season. While I do have a few thoughts I may share tomorrow, I don’t feel adequately informed enough, or bold enough, to submit many predictions that would meet the criteria.
It’s been a busy winter - for the Royals and me - and while I’m aware of the team’s acquisitions, I haven’t really dug in to the statistical profiles of those players. I generally think they’ll be fine, but as far as contributing to the analysis, I don’t feel I have much to offer beyond saying Seth Lugo and Michael Wacha will probably be roughly average starters, Adam Frazier will likely frustrate fans by playing a bit too much, and Hunter Renfroe will hit tanks and strike out.
Typically at this time of year, I have a rekindled optimism for the approaching baseball season, enough to where I’ve talked myself into a bouncebacks and breakouts for Royals players the general public has written off, like Adalberto Mondesi, Hunter Dozier, and Brad Keller, among others.
This year? Either I’ve finally recognized I don’t know as much as I think I know, or my lack of knowing things has contributed to a lack of enthusiasm for thinking I know things. I certainly expect some Royals to have big years, but I feel like those previously held, unreasonable expectations aren’t nearly as prevalent.
Perhaps I’m maturing in my fandom, or maybe my mental distance from the analytical aspects of the offseason has contributed to a distance from the kind of wishcasting I’d grown accustomed to. Or maybe it’s all just delayed and as soon as Brady Singer strikes out a batter with his new sweeper I’ll be declaring him an All-Star.
In some ways, the upcoming Royals season feels like it has more certainty. They raised their floor with many of their acquisitions, yet their ceiling seems to be limited to a win total in the low-to-mid-80s in the best of circumstances. On a player level, however, the season feels far less certain. There are about a dozen different players who I could see putting together three-win seasons or hovering near replacement level. Those two thoughts may seem incongruous, but I believe the team has better depth and a stronger commitment to replace underperforming players when necessary.
For me, the certainty and the uncertainty have mixed together with my lack of analysis of the player projections to create more of a calm for the season than I expected. I’m still excited for baseball to return, of course, but there doesn’t seem to be the same level of concern.
It’s strangely comforting to feel neither irrational inspiration nor undue dread about the upcoming 162 games. I’m hopeful the Royals will play competent and even relevant baseball after the trade deadline, though I’m not expecting a division championship.
There’s a small part of me that misses the delusion, though.
That enthusiastic embrace of the illogical optimism, knowing full well it will almost certainly lead to disappointment. Reading every negative word written about the Royals and scoffing at the writers’ ignorance. Interpreting every poor stat line from last season as an opportunity for a bounceback, and every good one as evidence of an undeniable baseline of performance. Watching a spring training game and taking every strong at-bat as a sign of improvement and every lackluster inning pitched as a sign of a guy who’s just working on things.
Before the first pitch is thrown, every team has a chance at success. The team standings in October are unknowable and every team has a chance to win that first game. Every fan has a moment where their hope for that chance doesn’t have to feel preposterous. They can imagine scenarios where their team exceeds all expectations, no matter how unlikely those scenarios are. What matters is the chance.
The chance is there until it’s not, and while it may not stick around very long, for now, it’s there.
Opening Day is tomorrow, and as I write this, the snow on the ground is melting.