Confessions of the October Addict

We all sat in the freezing cold leaving our beer right next to our legs just in case we had to run ..our ears glued to the piece of shit radio that kept cutting in and out that damien stole …
most of us worked all week and had work early the next morning it didnt’ seem to matter at that point we were young
i had one of johns gloves on my right hand so i could smoke with my left we shared gloves in those days it was easier to hold a beer when it was twenty degrees
six girls piled into the back of relos’ tiny car you could hear him yelling for them to shut the fuck even though you could hear the radio broadcast from inside his car four blocks away
drunk off the green bottles of beer that littered the benches and john sterlings’ voice the potheads complained in the background none of us would move
most of us were not alive to see the folklore grow during the golden age only misery of pinstripes
our catcher pitching
nobody is in centerfield
george bell hit 2 off the upper deck everytime he strolled into town
donnie baseball winning a batting title on a last place team
this is what we knew of new york baseball
the streets were humming right now
even the always quiet houses were awake with something
stumbling to the store the televisions were in unison on every block
we all knew who mariano rivera was long before the rest of the planet did
john wetteland then the foul ball
charlie hayes may be only a footnote in baseball history but to some of us he just might be a bullet in dallas


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