While I was moping behind my snowblower, I noticed an unusual formation of snow. I turned off the machine and stepped closer to it.

The identify of those piles of snow became clear. You've seen them before, too. They're the smiling, handshaking baseball players whose image lights up when Twins players hit home runs. The players looked at me as if they were waiting for me to speak.

"Who will these 2013 Twins be?" I asked. "Who can I cheer for? Who can I believe in?"

The figures just kept shaking their snowy hands and grinning.

"I can't take any more heartbreak. No more Joe Nathan. No more Span or Revere. I'm still grieving about all the hopes and dreams I had about Carlos Gomez."

For a moment, I wondered if I could even smell a baseball bat with my stuffed-up nose.

"If you just tell me who the 2013 Twins are now," I began, "I know who to cheer for. I can get attached. Maybe for a couple of years, even."

"No," said the one on the left.

"Not even we know," said the one on the right. "Watch the stats."

"There will be patterns," the one of the left said. He seemed the nicer of the two. "Some where you would expect, some will surprise you."

"Don't trust in Willingham or Diamond," the right figure said. "They aren't enough. The pattern will come from the minors."

"I have hopes for the starting pitching," the one on the right said. "Call me crazy."

The one on the right just shook his head, snow falling from its cap to the ground.

"So you're saying there is hope?" I asked.

"The future is already in Florida," they said in unison. "Wait for the signs."

Then, they shook hands once and the whole snow sculpture collapsed.

It's probably nothing, of course. By this point in March, I think we all lose touch with reality when we stare into the snow.

But I'm going to look for the patterns anyway.

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