Just an added note on Coco Crisp. He arrived yesterday evening around 10:30 p.m. on a flight from California that was supposed to get in about five hours earlier, before turning around and waking up this morning at 3 a.m. West Coast time. So he can be excused for dragging just a bit this morning.

As for his son, Crisp said the kid will be his last (his daughter is nearly two). He's not complaining about the week or so he'll have before his family flies in from California. He said he can use the sleep. No crying kid, no midnight feedings, no diaper changes. Not a bad break.

Crisp, for some reason, is about the most organized ballplayer I've ever met. (In his locker at Fenway, he has a white organizer on the floor, stacked neatly with his things, while most players just leave whatever they have strewn throughout their lockers.) He was lamenting the organizer's absence from his spring training digs, while surveying the load of brown boxes sitting in front of him full of stuff. Moments after the pack of reporters surrounding him drifted off, he set to work on unpacking and getting everything settled.

Other than that it was a pretty quiet morning, just a lot of players greeting the newcomers, boxes lying around, people trying not to trip over each other in the limited walking space of the clubhouse. (On that note, I almost became infamous the other day. While talking to David Pauley at his locker, Curt Schilling walked behind me and stumbled over my heel. Of all the ways to make my name known, I was hoping not to have it be because I hobbled the team's ace in spring training. But no worries. Curt righted himself, and continued on his way, after apologizing. Whew. Missed a close one.)

That's it for me, for now. I promise I'll be better about posting than I've been over the weekend. Don't worry. And thanks for all the emails about missing me.