“Looking around the room and seeing clean uniforms being hung out seemed to snap me out of the trance I’d been in. The 19 hours of driving and picturing grandiose visions of my professional debut had left me in a stupor, but now I realized I would don my home white pants and dark blue button-up jersey with “Bluesmen” in gold across the chest in just a few hours and step onto the diamond for the first time as a pro.”

“Prune juice, prune juice, runs runs runs.”

“Where is Oil Can Boyd when you need him?”

“I watched them like a hawk (too many bird references yet?), waiting for the perfect chance to insert myself in the action. They carried on until it was clear that Skip was frustrated, and probably pissed off too, and he got into a pretend fight with the Chicken. My moment had come.”