Durham is no longer a shithole. It has quite a bit to recommend it these days.
Oops
I re-read Look Homeward, Angel. It still holds up nicely.
Cool to know.
Hereās a good look at Greg Maddox using the 76 pitch (or was it? ) complete game as a backdrop.
(The thumbnail is tongue in cheek)
I did not realize Maddux bounced around on several teams as much as he did.
Weāve been to Savannah and Charleston twice. I like Charleston a little more but my wife prefers Savannah. Avoid both in the summer.
Hader with 6 ER in 1/3 IP today. I wonder if the Padres are looking at their receipt to see what the return terms are.
That Vanderbilt place aināt bad.
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WTF happened to him? He was the best reliever in baseball and suddenly heās the worst.
The Padres acquired him.
He had been sketchy for a while before the Brewers traded him
Wolfe isnāt for everyone. He goes on and on at times, and youāre wondering what the hell he is talking about. Faulkner described him as one of Americaās greatest talents, but at times it was ālike watching an elephant try to dance the hoochie coochieā. But when heās on his game, he has no equal. Some of his work is simply breathtaking.
I like Thomas Wolfe a lot, and I typically do not mind someoneās going on and on. And on.
Wolfe wrote perhaps the single greatest description of āAmericanaā in Of Time And The River:
āBut this was the reason why these things could never be forgottenābecause we are so lost, so naked and so lonely in America. Immense and cruel skies bend over us, and all of us are driven on for ever and we have no home. Therefore, it is not the slow, the punctual sanded drip of the unnumbered days that we remember best, the ash of time; nor is it the huge monotone of the lost years, the unswerving schedules of the lost life and the well-known faces, that we remember best. It is a face seen once and lost for ever in a crowd, an eye that looked, a face that smiled and vanished on a passing train, it is a prescience of snow upon a certain night, the laughter of a woman in a summer street long years ago, it is the memory of a single moon seen at the pineās dark edge in old Octoberāand all of our lives is written in the twisting of a leaf upon a bough, a door that opened, and a stone.
For America has a thousand lights and weathers and we walk the streets, we walk the streets for ever, we walk the streets of life alone.ā
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Iām waiting for the day when Manfredās letās-mike-players-in-the-field nonsense results in an error. Preferably an error that alters a playoff race.
Filed under āItās about goddamn timeā:
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20+ years ago mississippi was interesting. Remember going through one area on one side of river and the ghetto, other side real nice. Both part of same city, but extremes.
I hadnāt heard of āIchiro Girlā before, but this was good.
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That may be the best first pitch ever.
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