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  • Coming to the ballpark always feels like coming back home, for me. There's something so elemental, so timeless about being at the ballpark - a major part of my being just relaxes and sighs, knowing that the next several hours will be like being back in the living room of the house I grew up in.

    Indeed, I grew up in a ballpark. It was the one place where it didn't matter if I was lost in a big family, if I was a bed wetter, if I was so shy around girls I could never find the right words to say around them. At the ballpark, I could go where I wanted, when I wanted, and nobody stopped me, because I knew I belonged there. I could carry on intelligent conversations with adults, and they could tell I knew what I was talking about. I knew my baseball.
  • Tonight's my first official major league game of the season. I got to a few Spring Training games down in Florida in March, which were really cool, but this is the real thing. I am in my element.

    I came early, got some food and a soda, found my seat, and took in Batting Practice. I was sitting right in Home Run alley in right field, and balls were raining down around me as I ate. Normally, I'd be poised to catch one, but not at the moment - not while I still have stitches in my hand from catching a softball wrong 2 1/2 weeks ago (they finally come out tomorrow). There were guys with gloves chasing them down, so I had plenty of protection.
  • Ahhhh - It's so good to be back home!

    (First 3 photos are of the statues at the centerfield entrance to the park, of Negro League star Josh Gibson, former Washington Senator greats Frank Howard and Walter Johnson, and the tribute, behind the right field seats, of my childhood/lifetime hero, the "Great One", Roberto Clemente).

    "Play Ball"!
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