So I'm in Seattle this week at a meeting of a company I split rocks for. Having a pretty good time, actually. They've cracked us over the head a few times with some changes they'd like to make, customer be damned, and that's hurt a little. But last night they took us down to the baseball park and we got to hit a little bit. I drove one to the warning track of the warning track. I also threw a pitch 63mph which took top honors. I wished I hadn't because I felt a weird tingling sensation in my arm afterwards. The real sensation was talking to Ernie. Ernie is a throwback from when baseball wasn't watered down with minor leaguers posing as big timers. Back when there were only eight teams in the American and National leagues. He played a bit in college and in the service and bounced around the minors for a while before giving it all up to have a family. Whether you like baseball or not, there is no denying that it is a great look at the american spirit. All the hopes and dreams are there. Some are realized, some are dashed. Everyone in the game, from the guy that picks up the towels at the end of the day, to the coach, umps, and bonus babies, everyone is trying to get to the big platform. Along the way they fight for the wins and the chance to get better. The common thread: opportunity. And aint that grand?

Johnny DontHitFar