Gotta write.
I don’t know what about, but I’ve gotta write.
There are chills in my fingertips and in my shoulders and in my headspace, and I want there to be baseball things to invest it in. I can be patient — reluctantly but without, I suppose, much of a choice.
I’m feeling it on the mound and I’m seeing the runner break with the pitch as I rifle down-and-in to the gap and I’m charging the liner to center with the runner turning third and I see the ball off the bat, two steps and a backhand dive, hit me the ball hit me the ball hit me the ball
I’m in the house for Cliff vs. Pettitte.
I’m feeling it in the house.
Joey’s BP. Adrian’s in-and-out reps. Claudio’s confidence. Dirk.
The breaking news sounder, late July.
Chills.
Not the kind baseball’s stove refuses to defrost, but the kind that craves the swarm of the sounds of fungo and leather and scrape, that wants to mouth the words “Play Ball” just as they’re being prescriptively proclaimed, that demands that you hit me the ball.
That’s gotta write, leaving you saddled, apologetically, with exactly 200 unwarranted words.
That’s gotta write.
Dallas attorney Jamey Newberg has been commenting on Rangers from the big club down through the entire farm system since 1998.
Scott Lucas was born in Arlington, Texas, to Richard and Becky Lucas. He lived mostly in Arlington before moving to Austin, where he graduated from The University of Texas. Scott works for Austin Valuation Consultants, Ltd., and has published several boring articles about real estate appraisal and environmental contamination. He makes a swell margarita and refuses to run longer than ten kilometres.
Eleanor grew up watching the AAA Mudhens in Toledo, Ohio. A loyal Ranger fan since 1979, she works "behind the scenes" at the Newberg Report.
