Winding

Every day up at Emma, the wind was new. Down here, it's the same patch of flags over the TraveLodge, same pages blown off my printer, same old dust off the parking lot.

I ran the sole off my ten-dollar cleats the other night. Threw the sole away, kept playing. Next pitch: pop-up between pitcher and second. Playing shortsop, I had the easy play but with no cleat on my right foot couldn't get my body going soon enough. Safe.

So I spent an hour yesterday watching Rear Window and duct-taping my shoe back together, transferring much of the dust from the shoe to my furniture. The cleats have to last at least two more games--our last Glove Story, next Wednesday, and my birthday ballgame sometime in late August.

If the wind's blowing out that night, look out. I plan to send my friends and other loved ones deep.