Usually we play football on Thanksgiving–always tackle.  But this year we couldn’t round up the usual suspects.  Fear of injury I think (those weenies).  So a few of the boys and I played some pickup baseball instead.  What the devil.  It was a warm day.

I coached these college men in hardball when they were kids, including of course my sons.  We played a special kind of ball: inclusive rather than exclusive.  Those were special, irreplaceable years.  Now these guys all hit better than I do.  Punks.  I don’t mind being 51, but there are certain drawbacks.

Wonderful holiday either way, despite tragic events in Mumbai and at WalMart.  I won’t comment on the latter, or how that reflects on our nation.