Take me out to the ball game

I just attended my first Major League Baseball game in almost 25 years.

You must be thinking, wow, Mike, you are clearly not a baseball fan.

Au contraire.

I am a huge baseball fan. My first job ever was before I was old enough to work, and the owner of a baseball card store near my house figured out a way to game the system and, rather than pay me to work, let me have store credit if I “volunteered.” At the end of each week, he would tally up my volunteer hours and gift me a store credit. One week, my entire pay … I mean, gift … was a single baseball card, a 1980 Topps Ricky Henderson.
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Gone fishin’ (and eatin’)

My son loves to fish. Loves, loves, loves to fish. If I gave him the option of having a roof over his head or fishing, it’s pretty much time to tell him goodbye.

He fishes in the morning. He fishes in the afternoon. On plenty of occasions I have called him and said, “Dude, it’s dark. How are you still fishing.”
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