I can't believe I come home tomorrow. I realize that most everyone else is anxious for spring training to be over and for real baseball to commence, but the end of spring training for me means going back to the Midwestern weather, greatly reduced chances of running into baseball celebrities, and missing games in favor of gainful employment.

At least I'll get my persistent Internet connection back. And I've accomplished almost everything I set out to do on this trip:

• I've chatted up Raquel Aurilia and introduced myself to the Latin Love Machine.
• I've drunkenly and shamelessly promoted Red Hot Mama on the radio.
• I've gotten a couple impressive autographs.
• I've convinced Rich Aurilia to do an intro to the Red Hot Mama podcast.
• Perhaps most importantly, I've drinken my weight in beer.

On Tuesday I saw Marty Brennaman at Ed Smith stadium. When I introduced myself and said we'd met briefly at the Reds Caravan stop in Indy, he did seem to remember me. And when I gave him a copy of Funnyball and asked him to give it to Steve Stewart, he agreed. I bet he doesn't get asked to play messenger boy for Steve Stewart very often.

After the game, I also ran up to the press box and said hi to Marc Lancaster. I might not have been as cool as the guest who actually got to go inside the press box that night, but it was a thrill for me. I even gave him a matchbook, which brings the grand total of matchbooks that I've given out on this trip to something like 15. Just 2485 left to go!

The only thing that I haven't done yet is present the hand-crafted gift I've put together for Jerry Narron. I had direct access to him the first three days I was here, but as soon as I got the damn thing framed, he became impossible to get face time with. But there's one more game tomorrow, one more chance. Assuming, of course, that I haven't again drunk my weight in beer.