BALLS!

I used to sit alone in my room and have the most magnificent dreams come rolling through my head. Each dream would have at its core my backyard. In those days I had a backyard that was like a baseball stadium. Everyday in the summertime was like the World Series. I had, and still do, every plastic baseball helmet of every team of that era. I used aluminum bats and tennis balls. I swear I had them tennis balls all over across the alley and in the neighbors yards with their bad dogs and all. I used to have to dodge them dogs to get at least some of them balls back. Over time I learned how to put the ball in different places. I learned how to hit it on the ground to the hole in the right side. I learned to bang it in short right with a hell of a curve on it. I learned how to line it up the middle and stretch it into a double because the kid would always assume I just wanted one. This mentality stopped for me in high school; actually before high school. You see, that is when women ruined my life forever. I realized long ago that Robert Plant may have been right all along. Son of a Bitch man!