i was walking by a sports field last night while one them there baseball games was taking place. a sturdy buck was caught in a pickle between second and third. like a lover's quarrel. but more than that it reminded me of the boston summers of my youth, where my brother joe and i would meet up with the neighborhood toughs and set up our game right in the middle of loring street which allowed parking on both sides. Nana owned a duplex there.

we had cheap gloves but official bases, you know the flour sack kind. we would tear up the narrow street. joe was easily the fastest, a gazelle; i was a trooper, breathless and sweaty (baby fat). the neighborhood kids could throw and run like you couldn't believe. after we'd go to tony's market, where i developed my taste for creamsicles and men whose names began with uncle.

the runner was finally tagged out at second for the third out. both sides cheered because it was so awesome to watch.

at the far corner of the field another young man was practicing his lacrosse moves. such a pussy sport.