I've known Bryan Reynolds a little too long to let it escape notice. But there it was, plain as the sizzling sun and bright blue skies blanketing Pirate City on this most Bradenton of mornings here, with this assessment of where his team stands this spring: "We've got a playoff team. We've just gotta play like a playoff team."

Oh, my.

The questions I'd been asking him, following the team's two-hour workout, dealt mostly with the offseason's offensive upgrades -- Brandon Lowe, Ryan O'Hearn, Marcell Ozuna, Jake Mangum -- and how they might combine with a revitalized Reynolds, a resurgent Oneil Cruz and a ridiculously overdue Henry Davis to create at least the core of a competitive lineup.

And he boomeranged back with playoffs. Like it was just another term. Like it's something I'd heard on this particular campus more than once or twice in three decades of covering this franchise down here.

He was anything but alone.

"I mean, look around at what we've got here," A.J. Burnett was telling me, artfully using that 'we' as if he's about to grab a ball himself. "Look at the arms. Look at the bats that've been added. Look at the way guys are pulling for each other."

This was just outside the clubhouse. As A.J. and I spoke, Jared Jones strode by and shared a swift embrace with his spiritual twin.

"When we got it going back then," A.J.'d continue, this time referring to the 'we' of a dozen years back, "we didn't wait for the expectations. We just got better. We just started winning. We didn't worry about what steps we'd need to take along the way."

Yep. The 2012 Pirates were 79-83 and fourth in the Central Division. The 2013 Pirates were 94-68 and dancing on clouds moments after Johnny Cueto dropped that ball. 

That's the mindset. That's this. That's the sum result of my first day down here and countless conversations with countless important people. Reynolds. Cruz. Paul Skenes. Konnor Griffin. A couple of the newer additions. Plus Travis Williams, who's been public all winter about the playoffs being the goal.

And Don Kelly, who's pushed the same theme all week in what, it should be remembered, is his first full year as manager. Dude's so giddy about his first spring he's bouncing around like his bum's ablaze. Room to room. Drill to drill. Talk to talk. Not sure I've seen any manager here do that in my time, and I go back to Lloyd McClendon.

I asked Kelly about this.

"You know, taking over in the middle of last year," he'd reply, referring to replacing Derek Shelton in May, "it's like you're in a fire drill, kinda. You're just trying to stabilize everything. And now, to be able to come into spring, to have a fresh slate and be able to start from the beginning, it's been ..."

He smiled there.

"It's been fun. It's been challenging in a lot of aspects. But I'm excited mostly about the way these guys have gone about it these first few days."

That's what I've seen and heard so far. It's not old. It's new. It's not about what happened. It's about what's next.

Needless to say, I've had many misgivings about the way this team's been run this decade, and I've made those loud and clear, doubly so as it applies to Ben Cherington and upward to Bob Nutting. But what's happening here, even if just in blissful isolation that won't even test reality until March 26 in New York, that's been borne of a series of smart, ambitious moves more than any sort of standard spring sap. Half the lineup's new. Money was spent. 

My God, there might soon be a second Skenes-level star in our midst:

It's OK to try to start anew.

And yeah, it's OK to try saying that P-word, challenging as that is unto itself. Teams aren't obligated to take off in steps or stages. They can just take off. Like 2012 to 2013. Like the Penguins have in this NHL season, from lottery-bound loser to legit contender. 

Besides, hasn't the wait been long and lousy enough to not wonder otherwise?

"Definitely," Reynolds would say to that. "Let's go. Let's make it happen."

DEJAN KOVACEVIC / DKPS

• I'm told here today that Cherington's not done. The search remains active for an additional rotation arm, ideally a lefty. But otherwise, that might be it.

• I'm convinced none of this occurs without Reynolds being his best self. For all the fuss over the additions, the Pirates won't move meaningfully above the 2025 bar of being the majors' worst offense without all hands in the figurative pile.

To which, I asked Reynolds himself if he's about to be back.

"That was the goal of the offseason," he'd reply. "Just working on getting my swing path back to what it was, getting into that path earlier, getting the barrel there earlier so I've got a better chance. In the offseason work, BP and stuff, it's good. So now, I've just got to translate it to live."

That begins Saturday afternoon against the Orioles, down the road in neighboring Sarasota.

• One never knows who helps in such settings, but Reynolds credited Brian Coon, "a dude I hit with" who works as a baseball coach at a private school in Nashville, Tenn. They watched video, saw what was missing and went at it. Just something to file away.

• Been amazing in such a short span to see Skenes' presence in this environment blossom as it has. Not just talking about the pitching. He's the big man. He's the leader. Not tomorrow, not next year, but right now. He does all the small Sidney Crosby-type stuff. Notices everything and everyone. Helps in all directions. Tries to lift everyone up. And all while ensuring the one element he can most readily control -- being elite himself -- doesn't suffer for any of it.

"We believe in what we have here," Skenes would tell me, "but we've all got to go out and do it."

• Griffin's not at all the same personality, but he sounds, from our separate conversation, like he'd love a chance to do some leading himself someday. More by example.

"I always want what's best for my team and my teammates," he'd tell me. "That's just me."

Also just him was murdering one baseball over the batter's eye in center, a minimum 450 feet in flight, plus another over the tall mesh fence in left ... that might've ended your humble narrator if if weren't for Marcell Ozuna walking about 20 feet behind me out there and yelling 'HOME RUN!' as it came close.

I asked Griffin if he's taken out insurance for that sort of thing.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he'd respond with a sheepish smile.

Kid can really rake. Wait until you see it at PNC Park someday soon.

• That said, my goodness, let's go easy. There are publications now comparing him to all-time greats. Like, people who shared the silver screen with Marilyn Monroe.

He's yet to take a solitary swing above the Altoona level. He's 19. He's human. And from what I hear, whether anyone likes it or not, the default position within management remains that he'd benefit from at least some small stretch with Indianapolis. Not that it's set in stone.

There'll be time.

• Pitcher I enjoyed watching today: Carmen Mlodzinski. Don't forget about him. Brought big heat in live BP, then finished people by diving under the bats.

• Hitter I enjoyed watching today: Mangum's got some Corey Dickerson to him, as I'd remind him and Matt Hague after witnessing Mangum adjust way upstairs to laser a single into right. Love to see the old-school sneak back into the game on occasion.

Turns out, as Mangum would reply, he and Dickerson have a history tied to common baseball circles in their native Mississippi.

• It's early. Even for the spring, it's early. Nothing amiss with enjoying it.

Hope everyone's enjoying the unprecedented coverage we've offered from here, including Jose Negron's reporting and original observations each day, Greg Macafee's endless visuals and whatever else I can whip up while here.

The sights-and-sounds videos, so far, have been a real point of pride:

• Thanks so much for reading my -- and our -- baseball coverage. I'll be here all week.