Opening Day, and our starter was not in 8th grade when I joined the Red Giants. He was EIGHT YEARS OLD. It’s funny watching these four or five young Go Hards on the team and think “that was me and Dallas and Dunagan and Kramer and Ben just ten years ago.” It blows your mind […]
Opening Day, and our starter was not in 8th grade when I joined the Red Giants.
He was EIGHT YEARS OLD.
It’s funny watching these four or five young Go Hards on the team and think “that was me and Dallas and Dunagan and Kramer and Ben just ten years ago.” It blows your mind how quickly the time passes.
We won, and damn did it felt good. Meantime, I made one stupid play in the field (fielder’s interference; don’t want to talk about it) and went a very comfortable 1-5 with one line drive laser beam that the pitcher stole from me and one bomb I dropped over the left fielder’s head; it’s good to show all those youngsters that the Old Man can still get around on a fastball.
I had some friends in town from Chicago (groomsman Mike and his lovely wife Heide) and they asked me to join them for champagne at a friend’s place. Apparently news of our victory preceded us; life is good.