Do You Miss It?

(Editor’s Note: This is in some sense a prelude to the 2006 reflective essay I’m working on, coming soon, veering away from baseball a bit towards life and philosophy and women and what to make of another year gone by. The driving question in the upcoming essay: why bother with what seems a pointless season like the last one?)

The conversation turned to Chicago in the hot tub Saturday afternoon, as we sat under overcast skies and cooler -- almost cold -- weather, with occasional drizzle collecting on the tree branches above and dropping with cold, heavy splats on our heads. “I know you don’t miss it,” my friend from Indianapolis said sardonically. She was referring to how much I like where I’m at. “That’s not true at all,” I replied. “There’s a lot I miss about Chicago. It’s an unbelievable city. It’s just that all things being equal I’d rather be in Austin right now. Especially because of all the stuff I had to do.” (continue...)

Back on my Mind

My roommate cracks a joke about Scooter the talking baseball. On an airplane, I finally read Roger Angell’s annual post-World Series essay in the New Yorker, thankfully short on the Cardinals and longer on the Tigers. On the HD movie channel Willie Mays Hayes scores from second on Jake’s bunt single as the Indians defeat the Yankees in the single game playoff. This is how baseball returns to my mind. (continue...)

The View From Wrigleyville


The Eye Of The Beerholder


Westside Wavelength