It’s that time of year again. When we hear the four best words in the English language, coming out of towns like Mesa, Arizona or Winter Haven, Florida. No, it’s not, “Your summons, Mr. Kemp” it’s “pitchers and catchers report.”

The Cubs pitchers and catchers reported last Thursday and the Sox yesterday. Even Sammy Sosa is expected to arrive on time tomorrow. This is bad. I don’t like the precedent this sets. Does that mean that from now on when I show up late for work I can’t burst in the door and yell, “Hello America! I’m in the house!”? I’d blow some kisses to the receptionist, give the weird heart thump thing and all would be forgiven.

Maybe this year I’ll just do the Frank Thomas and show up, then go home and sulk for two days. Hey, that’s not bad…

Ron Santo arrived in camp yesterday. He’s an inspiration, no doubt. An absolute warrior. How long before he jokes that even with the loss of both legs below the knee he still has better range than Fred McGriff did last year?

Speaking of Fred, remember two years ago when he held the Cubs hostage because he didn’t want to approve a trade that would take him away from his family for two months? The family was rooted in the Tampa area and nothing could make him move.

Maybe my atlas is faulty, but he’s a Dodger now, and I’ll be damned if I can’t find Los Angeles anywhere on my map of Florida.

Kyle Farnworth suffered the first injury of camp. Unless you count whatever damage Rod Beck did to his pants by merely putting them on. I kid the Shooter because we love him. He shaved his mullet and lost twenty pounds. I had no idea a mullet weighed that much.

The Farns jammed his right index finger during bunting practice. You see pitchers do this from time to time and it’s amazing. What part of “don’t wrap your fingers around the part of the bat you’re trying to hit the ball with” do they not understand?

Good news for The Farns, though. On Tuesday they’re going to break up the monotony of camp with a punt, pass and kick contest for the pitchers. Jim Hendry’s already set up a cot in the infirmary for Farnsy.

You will all be shocked and amazed to see in today’s links that Mariotti has put down the doughnut to write another article in which he rips the “Tribsters” for being rich and stupid. I find it is against my DNA to agree with Jay, but on it’s face it’s hard to not agree with him. However, given that he writes this same column at least once a week it kind of loses its meaning.

I did like though his smooth flip flop back to Sammy Sosa’s bandwagon. Nobody switches sides faster than Mariotti. You’d think all that running and bandwagon jumping would have gotten him in better shape. Just tune in Around the Horn any day this week to find Jay in a designer knockoff dress shirt that he couldn’t possibly button up all the way.

By the way, doesn’t anybody else think that’d be a good show if they’d turn the volume down on Max Kellerman and sew Woody Paige and Jay Mariotti into a burlap sack full of rabid wolverines?

It’s February sweeps for chrissakes, they need to do something.

Do we think they could fit Skip Bayless in that bag, too? Maybe he’s too busy writing another, “The (Niners/Raiders/Giants/A’s/Cardinal) should fire (Mariucci/Callahan/Baker/Howe/Teevens)” article. It’s amazing that talentless hacks like Bayless and Mariotti and Mike Lupica and Bill Conlin can get and keep jobs in huge markets, when they can’t accomplish the number one job of any newspaper columnist. They can’t entertain anybody.

Oh, wait…Mike Downey just wrote another column about how he used to live in LA.

Maybe Michael Holley got it right. You move to a bigger market, realize finally that you’re a fraud, quit, give the money back and get a new job writing a book that is an inside look at the defending Super Bowl Champs, only to have them miss the playoffs and render your entire season a complete waste of time.

Is Groucho drunk? He makes a list of trades the Bulls should make and the first one involves trading the number one pick and four players to Portland for Antonio Daniels. I know the four players include Dolly Bagaric and the Mayor, but still…four guys for one ‘tweener bum? Even the Bulls don’t do that. Oh, and by the way, take our number one, too! Don’t worry, the Eddie Robinson, Jamal Crawford, Marcus Fizer to Miami for Eddie Jones trade is on the list. It’s only the 34th week in a row, now.

This column will get its own column later this morning. Huh?

Paul Sullivan on Ron Santo’s triumphant return.

Dusty was burning a scented candle in his office? You don’t think he was trying to kill the smell of the weed, do you? Hey, the man had prostate cancer and medicinal marijuana is legal in Arizona, you know…

Mariotti puts down the doughnut to ride the fence on the Cubs, again.

Mike Kiley says Sammy’s expected punctuality is a sign of respect for Dusty.

Somebody put a quarter in Tyson Chandler. Finally. Two years from now, people will look at the Chandler-Brand trade and wonder how Krause pulled it off. Trust me on this.

Sox closer Billy Koch is worried that Flash Gordon might push him for the job. He will, until one of muscles falls off…again. Sometime in March.

Rosey Colvin wants to see what he’s worth. He’d be worth more if he ever decided to play defense instead of just chasing the quarterback around.

The Illini laid a turd at Purdue, and have a big week ahead.

Peter Gammons look at four new managers, including the guy the Cubs hired.

Gammons’ Sunday best takes us around the majors and is full of his classic non-sequitirs.

Jayson Stark writes an article about Jim Thome. What were the odds?

I think Mike Tyson was just jealous of all the attention that Michael Jackson’s been getting.

Livan Hernandez thinks he was set up by a “really strong” 65 year old guy.

The Kevin Millar hostage crisis is over. Thank goodness. The Red Sox are only about seven deep at DH now.

Stephen Canella with a good one, breaking down the new managers.

E! Online with news that NBC is going to spin off the enjoyable Meet My Folks not once, but twice. OK, that’s enough.

Prince Harry gets to play a drunk. What, the Bush twins weren’t available?

To be fair to Michael Jackson, since we ran the police report on Friday, here’s a GQ story that gets into the dubious family involved in charging him with sexual abuse in 1994.

You go to a club and a Who concert breaks out.

The best way to stop a riot is always to close the doors. What was this the 1968 Democratic convention?

The world’s greatest newspaper with tales of a “smart” mosquito in Louisiana. Well, smarter than the Louisianians, which isn’t saying much.