Skip to main content

Baseball is Back

In this episode – Baseball is Back . . .

 

I must confess I'm a huge fan of the Chicago Cubs. Who else but a true fan would willingly watch a Spring Training baseball broadcast on The Marquee Sports Network, especially when it's one of their first broadcasts? Casual baseball fans would say, “It's a waste of time; these games don't mean a thing.”

I disagree. It's an opportunity to sit back, enjoy the rhythm and sounds of the game, and reminisce. Living in Southern California, we have several baseball teams to choose from, including the San Diego Padres, the Angels of Anaheim, the Los Angeles Dodgers, and, with a road trip, the San Francisco Giants. People ask me, why the Cubs? The answer is simple: My Dad was a Cubs fan (everyone called him Doc), and baseball was a big part of my childhood. The sounds of baseball were everywhere - on the barbershop radio – while playing baseball with the Heller boys and at the local ball diamond where I watched my Dad play.

So this afternoon, I had a crazy idea - what if I ask Gemini AI to craft a poem about Spring Training baseball and the Cubs? I wonder what it would come up with - well, folks, here it is.


Baseball is Back!

In Mesa, where the sun shines bright,

The Cubs return with all their might.

Spring training's here, a joyous scene,

As baseball dreams take center green.

 

The crack of bats, the pop of gloves,

A symphony of sounds that fans love.

Young Suzuki, sprinting down the line,

While Nico muscles up a fine,


Home run shot that soars so high,

It paints a smile across the sky.

Merryweather throws with laser heat,

While Wisdom dives, his glove meets feet,


With perfect grace, a grounder snagged,

The crowd erupts, their voices ragged.

From bleachers loud to sunny stands,

The spirit of the Cubs – expands.


Each day a test, each swing a chance,

To build a team, take a winning stance.

For soon they'll head north, Wrigley awaits,

Where history whispers through its gates.


So let the games in Mesa play,

As Cubs fans dream of a brand-new day.

For spring's a time of hope renewed,

It’s Chicago Cubs baseball, don’t be rude!


Yes, I’ll admit it’s a little hokey, but what the “HE–double toothpicks”? It’s a fun way to experiment with what you can do with AI.


And it reminds me of Dad.


I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Confidently Wrong: The Art of the AI Tall Tale

In this episode, A chat with Adamas the Chef on hidden recipes causing digital hallucinations. Pull up a chair and pour yourself a fresh cup of coffee—and please, for your own sake, taste it first. We need to have a quiet chat about why your computer sometimes decides to reinvent reality with the confidence of a five-star chef who has clearly lost his mind. In the world of technology, we call it a  hallucination . It sounds pretty dramatic, doesn’t it? As if the computer decided to ignore your instructions altogether in favor of a vivid, technicolor imagination that simply hasn’t met reality yet. But in truth, an AI hallucination isn’t a breakdown; it’s just a very confident, very polite mistake. Think of it like our friend Adamas , the Chef. Adamas is a master of the kitchen, but he is also a bit of a romantic who refuses to say “I don’t know.” When you ask him for a classic recipe he hasn’t made in years, he doesn’t stop to consult a cookbook—that’s far too pedestrian. Instead, ...

Opening Day Magic 2026 . . .

It’s back. Baseball—yes, baseball ! If you’re someone who finds themselves inexplicably drawn to this peculiar ritual, let’s be honest with each other: it’s a bit odd, right? I mean, 162 games. That’s a lot of hot dogs, a lot of standing around, and a lot of grown men in oddly tailored trousers spitting with remarkable precision. And yet, here we are, poised on the precipice of another season. Thursday, March 26, 2026, to be precise—Opening Day. It’s a curious thing, this Opening Day. You walk into a stadium, or turn on the TV, and suddenly, everyone is infected with a highly contagious strain of . . . Optimism . It’s a spectacular form of collective amnesia. All of last year’s fumbles, the endless losing streaks, the existential dread of watching your bullpen implode in the eighth inning—poof. Gone. It’s entirely replaced by a wide-eyed, childlike belief that this year, finally, the baseball gods will smile upon us. The Cycle of Hope and Despair As a Cubs fan, I know this cycle intim...

Overcooking the Grid

In this episode, terrified of smart toasters, yet demanding infinite electricity for potato personality tests. Pull up that chair again, and let’s hope your coffee is safe this time. In our last chat, we talked about our well-meaning but occasionally delusional AI friend, Chef Adamas, and his penchant for hallucinating blueberries into your Carbonara. We learned how to manage his quirks by keeping our “digital pantry” organized. But today, we need to look past the chef and take a hard look at the sheer size of the kitchen we are building for him. And folks, that kitchen has gotten completely out of hand. Down in Louisiana, tech companies are currently building an artificial intelligence data center the size of 70 football fields. It is a four-million-square-foot digital brain that requires so much electricity they are building three new natural gas power plants just to keep the servers from literally melting down into a puddle of expensive silicon. And what are we using this god-like, ...

Richard T. Liddicoat–Mr. GIA

In this episode, Mr. GIA . . . Can you name one person who, during your lifetime, changed your life in an extraordinary way? Was it a parent, a teacher, a historical figure, or maybe a serendipitous acquaintance? One person stands out among all others -  Richard T. Liddicoat . Sunday, March 2, 2025, would have been Mr. Liddicoat’s 107th birthday. Although he passed away in 2002, his memory lives on in me. In 1985, as a resident student at the Gemological Institute of America (GIA) in Santa Monica, CA, I was invited by Richard T. Liddicoat Jr. (then Chairman of the Board) to his office. Liddicoat was a student of human nature, a lover of gemstones, and a lifetime GIA advocate. He would visit every Resident (on campus) Colored Stone/Gem Identification classroom just before each class was to graduate. He would often bring samples of remarkable gems submitted to the GIA Gem Trade Laboratory for the students to see. He would also stop by a classroom to discuss industry trends, the ...