Nice day in Albuquerque, nice spring in Peoria, where the Seattle Mariners spent another spring getting to know one another.
Spring training is a time when, if you're carrying a camera, you might find a couple of relievers like Shawn Kelley and Sean White, happy to mug for you.
It's a clubhouse where Mike Sweeney and Ken Griffey Jr. are as likely to mock the way you dress or take notes or look after a bad night as they are with their teammates. Nothing goes unnoticed, no one is safe and everyone laughs.
In spring, you can stand near a bullpen and watch Felix Hernandez work. The kid isn't quite 24, and he's a Cy Young Award in waiting.
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Spring training is as good as it gets for players and writers - no wins or losses matter, no one has yet lost a job or been benched. And it's as close as fans can get.
This spring I watched bullpen coach John Wetteland setting up folding chairs near the dugout in Surprise when a young boy approached and asked him for a high-five through the backstop screen.
Wetteland was busy, a clipboard in one hand, a chair in the other. He put the chair down and high-fived the boy with as much enthusiasm as he would one of his relievers after a great game.
The boy gave a squeal and ran away happy. Wetteland smiled and went back to setting up chairs.
That's spring training.