So, that could make me the bad guy.

'You're the guy that doesn't live and breathe with his team. How could you say you're a fan if you don't even want to know what assets your team could have? How do find those diamonds in the rough if you won't even scour the rough?'

If that's the case, then sure, I'll be the villain. I'll take the hit and not follow every snap that those that I cheer will take until early September. I'm fine with that. It's not my way of punishing the owners for closing the gates on their employees. I'm not protesting the players for drawing a line in the sand that couldn't be crossed for four-plus months. It's just my normal state of mind.

Now, my apathy might have waned a bit if one thing occurred. It's the same phenomenon that happened in 1994, 1998, and 2004.

The MLB strike of 1994 was especially irksome for me. As a young teen in Kansas City, the Royals were my summertime fascination.

I wasn't a fixture at games, but I did head out to Royals Stadium (before it was renamed for late owner Ewing Kauffman) to see the likes of George Brett, Frank White, Bo Jackson, Danny Tartabull, Flash Gordon, Mark Gubicza, and Jeff Montgomery. That year, the unexpected Royals had actually fought their way into contention past the All-Star Break.

Nationwide, the Strike took the wind out of baseball's sails. Even though many were relieved to see the game's return in April of 1995, the sport didn't really get a boost for another three years.