The Confessions of Grizzly Davis

How nuts is it to play baseball in freezing weather.

It didn't seem to bother the players. Yet, I froze.

Not only did I freeze Tuesday night at Hawks Field with a stiff wind biting my backside, but also Wednesday night covering softball in a northern gale as Creighton played Nebraska.

I wore a coat.

I also carry some natural insulation and am a four-season hunter and forager. If there is a season I don't like to be outside, it's the heat of summer.

That said, until I'm sure that it's going to be warm, I'm going to work in a hat and mittens. I don't care if the kids are already wearing flip flops. I don't care if I look like a wimp to all the lumberjacks and crab fishermen in the crowd.

O.K., I'll admit it. I've had enough of this winter.

I'm the one always looking forward to the cold. I sit in snow banks for fun. But this winter has broke me. I have had fleeting thoughts of moving to San Diego. I don't care if it's ever cold again. I may have subconsciously enlarged my carbon footprint simply to rush global warming.

And I am not willing to wait. As I drove home from the softball game I had the heat on high. And when I got home I cranked the furnace up to 70-degrees and crawled under the covers.

I am not Grizzly Adams. As much as I thought I was, I am not. I couldn't be Grizzly Adams if you added electricity, a half-track and salsa to my log cabin home.

I will never again pray for more snow. I am wuss, hear me whine.