The arrival of spring this year has brought more friggin’ nor’easters than crocuses, and, as such, the arrival of baseball seems somehow hasty—for me, a full half of my annual enthusiasm for baseball has to do with the retreat of winter, and the bliss of long sunny days and warm breezes and cooking and eating all my meals outdoors. What I’m saying is, I haven’t yet been able to fully convince myself that baseball is truly here. It’s coming! Soon it will be here. But surely it cannot possibly already be here. No.

Then I see these wonderful baseball bros, in their teal shorts and short-sleeves, with their obvious delight at making a sweet play on a foul ball in a half-empty stadium, and demonstrating the immediate presence of mind to march right down the stands and hand that baseball to a grateful little future bro, and it’s like summer just exploded through my living room windows. That is for sure baseball. It might even be too baseball. God bless the Miami baseball bros.