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With your feet in the air, and your head on the ground . . .


{Tuesday, May 24, 2005}

1, 2, 3, see what I see?

1:23. A.M. Wilco. W. VV. VW. Rev the engine on yellow, jam it into first on red; green. Second, third. 1, 2, 3, 60, in a burst of adrenaline.

4:56, waking from a dream, bolt upright, escaping an ampitheatre of screaming Nazis.

7-8-9 up to bat, in the 7th, down 3-1. I'm "9". 1-2 count. ball. foul. foul. ball. ball. on base, game extended. OBP? .555

3 o'clock, 45 degrees and raining; it's 5/23, we're almost to June, and it's 45 and raining. 45? I could use a .45 . . .

6/78. 26 years ago, almost 27 now. 13 more days, and it's time to turn one more page.

9:10. A.M. Tomorrow. Deadline . . .

posted by Miles 1:23 AM

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{Thursday, May 05, 2005}

There's no feeling in the world quite like hitting a fastball right on the nose, feeling that perfect, solid jolt of contact, hearing the crack of the bat, and watching the ball rocket into the night sky.

I tripled, tonight, to dead center, in my only at bat of our season opener.

All is right in the world. :-)

posted by Miles 1:44 AM

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