Hey SUS, spring training has begun, where you at?

Look, I'll be honest: we've been getting pounded with ridiculous amounts of viewer email asking why we're not covering baseball. And the truth, loyal readers, is that frankly, I don't see what there is to write about.

Sure, there's the Clemens issue, and BH covered that. But to cover it every day like we're the New York Post to Clemens' Britney Spears cooch? Eh. I'll pass. I've gone on record many times as saying I really don't care because even as a Yankee fan, I always hated Clemens. (My level of hate for Clemens never went below a Hyman Roth-Vito Corleone "I'll do business with him, I respect him, but I don't trust him" level) So yeah, I hope Clemens goes to jail, found guilty for being an asshole. But I really don't care that he cheated. Sorry.

But what's that you say? Spring training is on the horizon? Great. As soon as she's done folding Mahatma's whites, we'll be sure to send the SUS intern out to Phoenix to document the Royals' latest run at a perfect spring training. (Hey Mercury Morris, David DeJesus has rounded the corner and is currently on your block. You've been warned.) The fact is, outside of injuries, nothing that happens in spring training matters unless you have young guys trying to make a squad or a position battle. And sure, you have some of those around the league. But when it comes to the Yankees, I'm not about to write an article about why Jason Giambi/Shelley Duncan/Morgan Ensberg/Mahatma deserves the first base job, because either way, they all suck. Though Mahatma has solid range.

So have faith, dear SUS reader (and seriously, have faith b/c my inbox only holds so much mail) for we'll have the 1st annual SUS fantasy baseball draft soon, MissMet will begin her Met updates soon enough, White Boy will eventually wake up from his SUS-coma to write something about the Yankees, (or anything) and we'll probably even have another Mets and a Red Sox writer for you. And when something interesting regarding baseball happens, I'll probably stick in my two cents. But for now, have patience, and stop asking me for $3.50, you goddamn Loch-Ness Monster.