William Walker, Author
Like any good addiction, it started with something like “Pssst… Hey kid, try some-a this. It’s good. It’s on me.”
Or in this case my buddy Dave, dammit Dave, whispered, “Yeah man, it’s Lookout Landing. I get all my Mariners news there. It’s free… You should try it.”
“That’s right… good, good… use the force…”
– Darth Vogelbach
So I snorted a hefty dose of Lookout Landing, and sure enough. Down the rabbit hole I went, hooked for good. Continue reading “Another damn rabbit hole”
First things first.
What about the 2017 Ex-Mariner of the Year?
Sorry, Eric From Spokane, it’s not this guy…
Video: mlb.com
…that’s what they called the stone wall at Cemetery Ridge. The South never made it that far north again.
Is that what we’ve got here?
The big man is off to an insane start. Is this as good as it gets?
Remember that stadium where the band would come out, they’d announce the anthem, and you’d have to look for the little flag flying over the end zone bleachers so you’d know which way to face? Continue reading “Why I salute”
Notes in the Key of Heartbreak
by Imani McGee-Stafford
What’s a poetry book review doing here? It’s not such a stretch.
Readers: This piece is full of metaphor. Please don’t go shooting anyone. Thank you.
Where’s the bad guy?
Been going to the gun range once a month. Not in a flag-waving, Second-Amendment, don’t-tread-on-me way. Just a nice thing to do with friends, then we go out to dinner, talk about our kids, families, stuff that really matters. It’s a better Friday date night than a movie or a church potluck. Continue reading “Target Practice”
My Oh My: The Dave Niehaus Story
by Billy Mac, edited by J. Michael Kenyon
It was Burlington. Just off Hopper Road.
That’s where I got the news.
Our man our hero Chuck Wendig has proposed writing on “The Danger of Undeserved Power.” Which of course is what this site and “Diamonds and Dirt” are all about.
While we’re busy thrashing about and challenging the obvious, an insidious poison still creeps through our land. While we puff our chests and claim vigilance, the evil of undeserved power struts by unchallenged.
——————————
The Parents.
To her, they weren’t My Parents. They were The Parents. Aloof, dismissive, self-absorbed, the dividing line was a fine one but oh so clear. They didn’t give two shits about her. She knew it. She’d given up wishing long ago. She tried her damnedest not to care either. Continue reading “The Magic of Looking the Other Way”
It’s Christmas Eve, and all through the land, who’s more excited than a baseball fan?
See, it’s been 53 days since the final play of that amazing, heroic World Series that made a legend of Jose Altuve and a romantic icon of Carlos Correa. And it’s just 53 more days until pitchers and catchers report for Spring Training.
We’re halfway there. We’ve passed the lowest, darkest days, and the promise of warmth and light and summer breeze beckons. The game will always be there, waiting to come back and soothe us with the pop of leather and the crack of Louisville Ash and the first shouts of “Play Ball!”
Merry Chistmas to all. And to all, Happy Solstice!
Dear Lynn Raisman,
That interview blew us away. Not just Aly demanding to know why USA Gym continues to let her down, but the face-to-face with you… Sixty Minutes in your kitchen, millions of Americans peering at you as TV guests in your home, and you were so matter-of-fact. There was no rage there, no clawing at the camera demanding blood for what that man did to your daughter.
Where did you bury it? What little lockbox in your brain was holding all those thoughts in there, just for safekeeping? You had to stay proper. It was an interview, and you had to be honest, but you were still the hostess. And you’re still… well… you’re Lynn Raisman. You’re that lady…
