'I don't care if I ever get back'
So there I was, sitting on my usual stool, staring out onto the field, content.
It's my favorite spot in the whole wide world. (Next to Barley's on a Sunday night, of course.) In fact, if something ever happens, the only thing I would want named after me is the Halls High baseball press box.
Dustin Mynatt and I took our normal places next to one another. He works the scoreboard and talks on the PA. I take notes. We swap baseball stories, laugh a lot, talk about girls.
Tonight was a scrimmage. Pretty good one, too. Halls and South-Doyle worked through eight innings of scoreless ball. Per preseason rules, it ended in a tie.
You know how I feel about baseball. But, I have a special affection for high school ball. The kids have fun. They aren't making millions. Some of them are trying to get to college. For love of the game and all that.
It's funny to think about now, but I've missed four seasons of Halls High baseball since 1993. I don't get to every game, but I attend my fair share.
Now, I'm off to Mr. Gatti's to pick up a pizza on my way home. My world is at peace. Life is good.
Guess that's why I'm humming the words to that seventh-inning stretch standard.
"Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack. I don't care if I ever get back..."
And I don't.