These players are among the first to arrive at Spring Training, bringing their tools of ignorance. The pitchers need them to be able to get their own work in. Have you gotten my drift?

I shed my past without regret, slipping through grass without a step.

The proverbial shelter on deserted islands, I’m a little word. Tutt-tutt!

Shapeless picture in a printed frame, I’m broken on purpose, yet whole all the same. Edges and islands in cardboard seas, You’ll tame my chaos by slow degrees. Corners are prophets, the border my cage, The middle’s a maze on a paper stage.

I'm a Novac, ...I'm a smoker, I'm a ??? I'm a midnight toker...