FRISCO, Texas — Want to see the Shreveport Captains play again?

You can. In Frisco, Texas.

Today the Frisco RoughRiders are one of the most successful clubs in minor league baseball. They are the Double-A team of the Texas Rangers and play in the Texas League.

I know: some of that sounds painfully familiar.

If you’ve never been to Frisco and need a quick getaway, you can be downtown from Shreveport in three hours. Interstate-20, Interstate 635, Dallas Tollway, turn on Gaylord Perry and you are in the Dr Pepper Ballpark parking lot.

The park opened in 2003 and they’ve been improving it since. Pool in right field for parties — I will passadena on the community pool, but still, it’s there if you need it, plus there’s a waterfall out there — patios in left and left center too. You can sit on the grassy hill on either side of the centerfield wall. There are about 25 suites, built to look like little houses all around the infield and down the lines.

It’s in a cozy spot in town. A nice apartment building is outside of right field, and I think it’s a giant Embassy Suites in center; you could watch a game from your room.

It’s 409 to center, 364 in the alleys, 335 down the lines.

Globe Life Park, which I guess will always be The Ballpark in Arlington to me, is 40 minutes away. You could make some weekend a RoughRiders/Texas Rangers doubleheader.

Opening week in Frisco this season is April 5-10. They also have a Teddy Membership! It’s named after Teddy Roosevelt, the original RoughRider. It’s a great seat but you have to sit on the back of horse. (Joking: the seating for Teddy members is in the infield and comes with access to the Carnival Getaway Grill.)

Wanna go? Me too.

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Only one more day of the Underwear Olympics, so you’ve have to find something else to do for the next 51 weeks.

The NFL Combine, which also sound like some kind of farm implement, concludes its annual and ridiculous run today. Seven days of timing, sizing, assessing and analyzing of future NFL players comes to a close in Indianapolis.

What does it all mean? Not much. It’s the NFL’s exercise in self-importance, as well as giving its own house network 24-hour programming that can be replayed until something else that doesn’t matter can be televised.

It’s called the Underwear Olympics because athletic young men are paraded around in various stages of (un)dress in front of representatives of all 32 teams. If that doesn’t sound like fun, it;’s because it’s not.

Shreveport’s Art Carmody, the 2006 Lou Groza Award winner from Louisville, was invited to the 2008 Combine. “It’s not fun,” Carmody says. “The thing I remember the most about it is how unprepared I was for it.”

When it’s your turn to be “evaluated,” Carmody says “you strip down to the tights. It’s like a meat market. You are up there in line and they give you a number and they call out your height and weight. You see them (the scouts) whispering and taking notes and you wonder what they are interested it. But I was a kicker, so I really don’t think they could have cared less.”

Carmody says the NFL Combine is not a place to bolster a player’s self esteem.

“Demoralizing is not the word I am looking for, but you get the feeling while you are there that if you think you are good, you actually aren’t good enough,” he says. “The process is in place to basically de-value you. You are there for them to tell you what you are not good at or how you don’t measure up.”

And here’s one thing about the NFL Combine that you didn’t need to know. “It’s probably the most intrusive drug test you will ever take,” Carmody says. “Let’s just say they watch everything.”

Let’s don’t.