Each morning, after walking and feeding the mut, I sit down to a bowl of oatmeal and watch Morning Joe. Today, a clip that Willy showed really struck me. It was a shot of Kirk Gibson, former Detroit Tiger god, and presently manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks, walking out to dispute a call with the umpire. My picture of Gibson is always of a long haired stallion; a hard nosed slugger who could out run a horse. Unbridled passion. Vigor. Perpetual youth. To use an overused cliche, he always leaves it all on the field.
It was hard marrying that picture with the older gentleman limping stiff-legged onto and off the field. It hurt to watch the aging hero. I sensed my mortality, and rubbed my sore knee.
Lastimado,
P. Suave
El Viejo Cojo
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