Sitting here in limbo

Hi, gang.

I'll be in limbo until further notice. I have taken a medical leave of absence from the newspaper to deal with a debilitating, but thankfully non-terminal, illness.

The long and short of it is that I can't read or write for any length of time and, on bad days, can't even listen to the radio or watch television. Being robbed of my hobbies is heartbreaking, but I'm still here to tell the tale.

So, as Jimmy Cliff sang, "I'm sitting here in limbo, but I know (hope) it won't be for long."

You're looking above at the famous Hotel del Coronado on Coronado Island near San Diego. It was rumored that Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson met here, which isn't true. They did spend time there, though, and you're seeing it because I wish I was there. I think the timbre of the tides and the salubrious scenery would do wonders for my weaknesses.

As it is, I watch reruns of "Harry O" (filmed on Coronado and in San Diego early on) when I can, and

try to catch Padres games when they're playing on the West Coast and I can't get Vin Scully. I like and have admired the Padres' announcer, Dick Enberg, for years. And I have a huge crush on Fox Sports San Diego reporter Kate Osborne.

Baseball, as it has for decades, has rescued me yet again. It's there, through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, often breaking my heart but a daily presence six months out of the year, beginning in the sweetness of spring when the colors are in sharp focus and the possibilities are as endless as pi.

So, let me say au revoir, because I certainly plan to see you again. I wish you nothing but peace, joy, happiness, fastballs thrown right down the middle of the plate, and the sweet surrender of sunshine on your shoulders.

See you soon, my friends.

Scully, Dodgers chase away the Braves and Tigers blues

One of the simplest pleasures of life has to be listening to Vin Scully call a baseball game.

What a strange, frustrating season this has been. The star-studded Tigers have imploded. The Braves can't figure out how to win on the road. The Smokies aren't even worth mentioning.

So, I've found myself drawn to Dodger games, mainly because of the team's longtime, velvet-voiced announcer. (Just to give the uninitiated an idea of how long he's been around, Scully was calling games when the Dodgers played in Brooklyn.)

It works out rather nicely. When Los Angeles is playing at Chavez Ravine, or in Pacific time, the games begin around 10 on the East Coast -- usually about the time I get home or have a chance to unwind long enough to watch. They aren't that great, but they aren't bad.

Best part is I don't much care what happens. It's baseball. More to the point, it's Vin Scully calling a baseball game. That's enough.

Put the game on last night after work. Sat on the couch awhile and chilled out.

The Dodgers were playing at San Diego, a place I have to visit someday. The crafty right-hander Greg Maddux was on the mound for the Friars. The kid pitching for Los Angeles, Clayton Kershaw, had a sweet curve and a wicked, if sometimes wild, fastball.

Maddux, by the way, has been pitching longer than Kershaw has been alive.

I lost myself in the cadence of Scully's delivery, finally giving up on the game to make a few phone calls before bed. The Los Angeles Times tells me this morning that Russell Martin was the hero in the Dodgers' 7-2 victory.

Hearing Vin Scully, though, reminds me how much I still love this child's game, even when my boys of summer ain't doing so hot.

Coming of age...

Well, all I can say is getting older -- and growing up -- never felt so good.

Got back from Big Ed's Pizza in Oak Ridge by 7:30 last night to watch the San Diego Padres/Colorado Rockies play-in game (the rare 163rd regular season game) for the NL Wild Card on TBS. Fun stuff. These two teams played like they never wanted the season to end, which is the great thing about this grand old game; it gives you the illusion that a never-ending year might just happen.

The Rockies jumped ahead (you should have seen that towering, 7-iron esque shot by Central High guy Todd Helton early on), then the Padres grabbed the lead on a grand slam. Poor Padre defense allowed the Mile High boys to edge back ahead.

Then poor defense, by Matt Holliday of all people, tied the score up in the 8th. And there it remained for the 9th, 10th and 11th.

Finally, about 11:30, I couldn't take it anymore. Yes, I turned off an exciting, tie-score, extra innings baseball playoff game. Ten years ago (heck, a year ago), this wouldn't have happened. I would have stayed glued to the tube. Just slept late today.

Nah. Can't do that anymore. With age comes responsibility. I have to get up this morning and go run the news department. Plus, I wanted to exercise a bit first too.

So, I left the game behind and went on to bed before midnight. But, you see, it's cool. Today's Rocky Mountain News (online) tells me that Helton, Holliday and crew won that sucker in exciting fashion in the bottom of the 13th, capping (of course) a rally with Holliday's controversial slide home on a fly ball.

Now that the Tigers and Braves are out of the playoff picture, I'll be rootin' for the Rockies the rest of the way. Young, exciting team. Plus, I have to pull for the local boy Helton, right? He's never been to the playoffs before.

So, I'm OK and you're OK, right? Of course we are. I may even run over to the mall after work and grab a Rockies hat, I feel so good.

This being responsible thing isn't so bad after all.