The Tacoma Times

Here it comes. Ahead of the robins, ahead of the crocuses.
What, in spite of last fall's grouches, many of us have eagerly been looking for and waiting to devour—
THE FIRST BOX SCORE.
True, it comes from the far-o Southland, below the frost belt—comes at a time when we're hesitating between earmuffs and an umbrella.
We can't, with physical organs, see the action or hear the cheering.
But it's worth something even to read about it at long range and to realize that, very soon, the great occasion will be upon us here in Tacoma, too.
Yes; we remember you said, last October, in the mix-up of the baseball war, "Never again!"
Yet, confound your cantankerousness, you know blamed well you didn't mean it.
Of course, you'll go to the opener in 1915 and yell as you always yell and beef all the way home if the home team loses.
Though it may be, as you say, that the game has got into the clutches of a lot of mercenaries; though players and magnates are both too greedy; though you'd like to see many of 'em tied in a bag and dumped overboard at sea, you know dern well, you old four-flusher, that you can't let spring come without catching the fan fever.
Bet you a bag of peanuts you'll be there!