Finally, for all of us but a lucky few, the dream of playing big-time baseball is relinquished so we can get on with grown-up things.
It was eight-and-a-half innings of ugly ball, but the good guys won.
Wearing a Phillies cap in this part of the world does attract attention.
Yesterday, we went to one of the best cheap restaurants around for lunch–we both had a yearning for the fried chicken livers with hush puppies.
The host saw my cap and said, “I’m sorry. We don’t serve your kind here.”
I asked, “Who do you root for? The New York Mutts?”
“No,” he said. “The Braves.”
As we left, he said, “They told me that I had to seat you.”
To be fair, I must say that he was smiling the entire time.