It has been well over a year and change since my last entry on my blog, a blog that I had written on everyday for many many years. However, with the advent of Facebook, most of my musings became quip like bromides, if that is such a word. I think it is because spell check did not redline me, like it just did on redline. In fact, it has been so long since my last entry that the entire template for this blog has changed so that I need to do a new once over to figure out what I am doing. Although, it actually seems somewhat more simple, except for the settings I see on my right hand side that none of you see.
I am sitting in my living room, watching the 30-13 Dodgers absolutely getting destroyed in Arizona to Joe Saunders and the Diamondbacks. Years from now I will be reading these words and scratching the top of my head to figure out which game this was. Listening to Vin Scully, all 85 years of him, wax poetic about Stanley Koufax (oops, did Vin really say that or did I just imagine it?)pitching a one hitter on this day in nineteen sixty something is a pleasure that surpasses the game score. With every word spoken, he hurdles towards his inexorable final Carson like goodbye. My hope for Vinny, although he probably doesn't entirely care one way or the other, at least that's how he calls a game, my hope for him is he gets to see one more World Series appearance by the Dodgers, which would have to be this year, one would think. This year's team shows promise, but it is still far too early to pencil them in for a trip to October. It has also been a rare thing, hearing Scully call games. I cancelled my cable two years ago and have only heard him call three innings for home games on the radio, and the occasional game on KCAL. When his voice is silenced for good, there will be a hole inside my gut as big as the ocean. If for no other reason that it has been an absolute lifelong constant. It will be the end of an era, one we will not see the likes of again. His most memorable quip tonight: "Whom the God's wish to destroy talk of potential".
I listen with baited breath in the background of my life each night wishing that time would slow for one more year the music of Scully's Baseball opera.