Spring training is a time of hope for baseball fans, a time to forget the past and look toward the future with optimism -- unless you root for the Baltimore Orioles.
If you follow the Orioles, you had the hope and optimism beaten out of you long ago. Ten straight losing seasons, that would make even Barack Obama throw up his hands and kick someone.
Here is a story that illustrates how beaten down Orioles fans are now:
A man I know gave blood the other day. It was a noble gesture, a selfless act. But instead of just giving him juice and a cookie when it was all over, the blood-drive people also gave him a Kevin Millar Orioles T-shirt.
The man looked at it and sighed.
"This is what we have to look forward to," he said. "Kevin Millar. This is our superstar."
Ladies and gentlemen, when a paunchy 36-year-old who hit .254 last year is your superstar, your team is probably in trouble.
But this is how it goes in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., this spring, as the Orioles roll out a team devoid of big-name players, a team filled with young guys and a few over-the-hill veterans hanging on to collect a few more million-dollar paychecks before they retire.
The team traded its best everyday player and best pitcher in the off-season, and now the emphasis is on youth and building for the future, like this is some kind of secret new strategy no one has thought of before.
So the message from the Orioles to their fans this year is this: We stink. And we'll probably stink for at least a few more years. Come out and see us anyway.
I ask you: Is that inspirational or what?
Is that a marketing slogan for the ages?
Sure, it's brutally honest. But is honesty going to work here?
With the economy in the tank and people watching their pennies, can you get fans to come to the ballpark and watch a team that's so bad it'll probably finish in last place?
One thing seems certain: The Orioles may have to step up those give-away promotions this year if they want to draw anything but flies to Camden Yards.
Instead of "Floppy Hat Night" and "Water-Bottle Night," they might have to change it to "Here's a $100 Bill Night!" or "Dinner at Your Favorite Steak House On Us Night!" or something like that.
They might also have to jazz up the fare in the all-you-can-eat section that became so popular last season.
Hot dogs, popcorn, Pepsi -- that stuff isn't going to cut it when you're 30 games out of first place in July.
Might have to break out the crab dip, jumbo shrimp and filet mignon if you want to see more than 10 or 12 fat guys in that section.
But that's a worry for another day. Right now it's early in spring training and the Orioles are trying hard not to sound like a team with no hope.
I pick up the newspaper every day and read the stories from Fort Lauderdale, with their recurring themes of rebirth and accepting new challenges and overcoming all the odds.
I read that Melvin Mora feels energized by all the young players the O's have in camp. That Millar thinks the Orioles will surprise a few people. That the manager, Dave Trembley, likes what he sees so far.
Great.
And you hope it lasts, because no one wants this season to be another downer, another train wreck like last year when the Orioles gave up a record 30 runs in one game, were no-hit by a rookie making his second career start in another, and went 11-26 at the end of the season, when the whole country was laughing at them.
But if Oriole management is flat-out telling you not to expect much from this team, you should probably take them at their word.
Don't get your hopes up! -- there's another marketing slogan the O's should consider.
Here is an amazing statistic that I learned from Peter Schmuck's column the other day: 31 of the 58 players in camp weren't with the team at the end of last season.
All these new faces ... I can't wait for Opening Day at Camden Yards, when the team takes the field and a familiar cry goes up in the stands: "There goes what's-his-name out to center. And who's the guy playing short?"
That's when you know baseball's back in this town.
kevin.cowherd@baltsun.com