Your 2023 Reds Survival Guide

Say hello to Wi Myers

Ladies and gentlemen, Wi Myers

I do all of this, every day, for you people.

Maybe you thought I do it for money (ha) or out of boredom or because my retired life is a bunch of yawning and staring (um, ah, well. . .).

In reality, I do it because I love you.

Herewith, then, something to make you smile between Thursday and October.

Your survival guide to the 2023 Cincinnati Reds season. Clip and save.

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When Bob said, “We’re not going to lose anymore,’’ he meant money, not games.

When Phil asked, “Where else you gonna go?’’ he was addressing the restroom situation for fans at Pretty Good American Ball Park.

GM Nick Krall says his goal is “sustained success.’’ He extends that hope to the men’s rooms at Great American Small Park, especially where senior citizens are concerned. Mister Mobster very much included.

When Krall talks about “high ceilings,’’ he doesn’t necessarily mean the anticipated professional growth of minor-league players. He could be referring to the brand new ceilings in the home clubhouse, to accommodate 6-foot-5 Elly De La Cruz.

The over/under for the year Nick Senzel is expected to play more than 110 games in a season is currently 2073.

In an effort to promote an attitude of winning, Wil Myers plans to selflessly drop yet another L from his first name. Starting Thursday afternoon, Myers will be known as Wi.

He will be joined by TJ Fried.

Understanding their fans are in no mood for consciousness, the Reds will begin selling laughing gas, novocaine, gummies and free whacks to the temples with ball peen hammers at all concession stands.

The Ramones will be a fixture at Sunday afternoon home games. Instead of God Bless America, the band will play I Wanna Be Sedated.

“Where else you gonna go to get that?’’ Phil will say.

On days he isn’t pitching, Hunter Greene will station himself on the roof of your home. Armed with a bucket of baseballs, Hunter will wing fastballs at kids whose soccer balls roll onto your front lawn.

To appease their fans thinking of switching to FC Cincinnati tickets, the Reds will conduct all their home games in running time (120 mins, max) and promise to agree to relegation if they don’t finish .500.

Joey Votto told the Enquirer, “I think I'm going to perform well offensively. If not, I'm going to retire." What Joey didn’t say was, he was talking about his chess game.

Mindful that fan tolerance for losing is at an all-time low, the Reds will provide vouchers to any fans who exit the Small Park in the 7th inning of any game the Club is behind by five or more runs. Phil will call it The Seventh-Inning Strike.

“Where else you gonna go to get that?’’ Phil will say.

The vouchers will be for Reds games in St. Louis.

Now, then. . .

LAMAR JACKSON wants to be traded. He tweeted that sentiment. Details:

Jackson’s four-tweet thread dropped precisely at 10:48 a.m. ET, or 7:48 a.m. Arizona time — exactly three minutes into the AFC coaches’ 30-minute media window at the NFL’s annual owners meetings. Ravens head coach John Harbaugh was left beginning his news conference with a request for comment on Jackson’s tweets, which he said he hadn’t seen. Thirteen and a half minutes elapsed before any non-Jackson related questions would follow.

What exactly could the heathen media ask that was remotely new? Fourteen minutes of questions, jammed into 10 seconds of legit news. That’s pretty much the definition of “News” in the NFL offseason. This morning I went 38 seconds in the car with the sports-radio station on, without hearing the name “Aaron Rodgers.’’ I had to pull over, I was shakin’ so bad.

I WROTE THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY, when the weather stunk. It’s still cold:

There is nothing dumber than bitching about the weather.

I do it, anyway.

When I was young and knew everything, the weather just was. Now I am dumber, but I also know why Florida has so many Michigan license plates.

I know it’s irrational. I just looked up average temps for Cincinnati in March: About the same as they are now. So how come I’m slowly going insane about the weather?

Miami Twp enjoys a rare nice day in March

Ah, but Opening Day looms! Baseball! Spring! Then I looked at Thursday’s forecast. Sixty and partly sunny. Awesome! Alas, the game starts at 4:10.

At some point, we all have a physical need to be outside and warm. It’s why God invented Barbados. In the past couple weeks, I’ve been weathered-out of four cart barn shifts at the golf course. Too cold, too wet, too windy, too much like Chicago. Only, we don’t live in Chicago.

I spent Saturday afternoon doing this:

I sat on the porch to burn a cheap cigar. When the sun emerged (a total fluke), I moved my Adirondack chair to face its warmth. When the clouds came back (business as usual) I switched to a swivel chair and swiveled it so my back was to the wind.

Quickly, the sun came back out (total fluke) and I went back to the Adirondack. I did this for an hour. I see the neighbor with his phone in his hand. He is watching me and calling the authorities to have me committed.

Perfect. Can I go to Trinidad?

I’m not a weatherman, but my bones tell me that for many years here, winter has shifted. It stays nice later in the year, then stays cold longer. I love November all the way to Thanksgiving, but I know we’ll pay for its balm. Like, now.

I can only go to the gym so much. I can only watch so much TV. (Twin Peaks, Season 2, was not as good as Season 1.) Drinking coffee makes me jittery, tea tastes like mud. I look at my golf clubs. Their offseason purpose is to mock me and fill me with unrequited longing.

I take my dog to the park. Crazy Chester is oblivious in all things, weather included. In January, he runs around like it’s Puerto Rico. I hunch into the breeze and pull up my hoodie. (Fie on) this.

Cincinnati in April

Tell me you’re this way, too. Do not speak of the beauty of seasons or how great it is to be guilt-free about doing absolutely nothing thanks to Cold Jail. Really don’t tell me to suck it up and live like a normal person and accept the things I can’t control. I can’t recite the freakin’ Serenity Prayer and yell about the weather.

Climate change is real. I’m not making light of it when I say, Yeah? Can we speed up the process?

Meantime, I’ll be inside, feeling like The Little Match Girl. (Lookerup, scholars.)

Life sucks. And then we freeze.

TUNE O’ THE DAY. . . So, AC/DC or the Ramones? Different sounds, same 3rd-grade talent, yeah? I admit to liking both, while realizing they play connect-the-dots rock. Sometimes, mindless is best. Here’s the aforementioned tune, soon to be the official unofficial theme song down by the river.