Name me another narcotic on the planet that hits a Giants fan like spring training, where every glass is half-full and rose-colored glasses are worn by all.

Even Russ Ortiz looks promising in Scottsdale.

Simply pack up the suitcase with some shorts, a couple of striped shirts, throw in a pair of sandals, sunglasses and a hat and I’m set for my first look at Barry Zito in orange and black. New windup, old windup, who cares. Just give me one curveball for a called strike and I’ll believe.

Nobody ever has a bad day during spring training, not with all this sunshine and beautiful, green grass.

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It’s always just a case of working out some mechanics or grooving a swing, like when it comes to Benjie Molina’s batting average. Or the pitchers are ahead of the hitters. Or the other way around.

Just give me that first sound of batting practice, and every reservation I have about Rich Aurelia as the Giants’ first baseman evaporates. Or the snap of a baseball hitting a leather glove and I’ll once again rejoice at the sight of Omar Vizquel fielding a ground ball.

Nevermind his age.

I’m convinced Scottsdale Stadium is located on a magic patch of ground. Step inside the black, iron fence that surrounds the ballpark and I’m actually happy somebody is trying to sell me food and drink at outrageous prices and Pedro Feliz and his new-found patience at the plate.

By the time I reach my seat, with sunscreen applied, I can’t even remember the Giants’ record this spring.

Winning streak? Losing streak? No idea. Can’t even tell you where they are in those preseason, list-every-team-in-the-Cactus League standings.

If you listen closely you’ll find that a third of all pre-game conversations are dedicated to simply trying to figure out if the Giants were in Surprise yesterday against the Brewers, or in Mesa against the Cubs. Who struck out in a key situation never even comes up.

The first glimpse of a major league baseball player in a freshly cleaned uniform always brings a jolt to the system. Even if its Eliezer Alfonzo.

Isn’t baseball missing out on a revenue possibility by failing to market a laundry detergent? If my shirts could have the brand-spanking-new look of a Giants uniform every time I stepped out of my car, I’d be a loyal custormer.

In this setting, even Matt Morris looks good at first glance. No sign of that astronomical preseason ERA anywhere, and there’s not a Giants fan in the park who doesn’t have him listed as the team’s No. 4 starter.

Once a spring training game begins, the first few innings are spent simply trying to figure out who is playing where. And who is that guy wearing No. 74? The question of who is going to bat behind Barry Bonds never reaches our lips.

I’ve always felt that if a manager can watch a spring training game seated in a plastic folding chair, he must not have a worry in the world. And if he’s not worried, what could I be worried about? At this point, I’m able to envision a bullpen the likes of Kline, Munter, Chulk, Correia, Hennessey, Sanchez or Wilson mowing down the Dodgers in April.

Isn’t that Matt Cain stretching out in left field ?

Boy, he is going to be great this year. Never mind the spring’s ERA of 9-something. It’ll be down to 0.00 by opening day. I guarantee it.

Even the applause at a spring training game is different, always polite, appreciative. Can’t remember somebody being booed during spring training. OK, maybe Armando Benitez, but he’s going to be traded anyway, so what’s the big deal?

And by the time the late innings arrive and the Arizona sun begins to fade over the mountains, a bunch of players from the Giants minor-league system are in the game, and the fact that none of them are good enough to ever reach the majors is an afterthought.

By now, only two names matter: Don and Charlie’s, and my reservation at 7. Like I said, not a narcotic on the planet ...

Tim Liotta is a freelance journalist and regular contributor to The Examiner.