Two old guys, Abe and Sol, are sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons and talking about baseball, like they do every day. Abe turns to Sol and says, "Do you think there's baseball in heaven?"
Sol thinks about it for a minute and replies, "I dunno. But let's make a deal: if I die first, I'll come back and tell you if there's baseball in heaven, and if you die first, you do the same."
They shake on it and sadly, a few months later, poor Abe passes on. One day soon afterward, Sol is sitting there feeding the pigeons by himself when he hears a voice whisper, "Sol... Sol..."
Sol responds, "Abe! Is that you?"
"Yes it is, Sol," whispers Abe's ghost.
Sol, still amazed, asks, "So, is there baseball in heaven?"
"Well," says Abe, "I've got good news and bad news."
"Gimme the good news first," says Sol.
Abe says, "Well... there is baseball in heaven."
Sol says, "That's great! What news could be bad enough to ruin that!?"
Abe sighs and whispers, "You're pitching on Friday."
__________________
"If you were looking for something clever or witty or funny here, you've come to the wrong place."
I don't usually talk about sports, but I'll bore you with my take on baseball anyway.
Back in the early 90's, my home town team, the Blue Jays, won 2 straight World Series in a row and I was an enormous fan, like over-the-top nuts about it. Then 2 things happened.
The first was that a really dear friend decided that she and her family ought to buy a house in a more prestgious part of town, one that would have an address better suited to her husband's position as a (relatively) big cheese in a national corporation. So they did their due diligence and decided upon a house that had been rented out for three years to a Blue Jay. They saw it and felt good about all the conditions, but the closing was a long way off. No problem for them until they actually had the keys and entered into what could best be described as a hell pit of filth, pizza boxes and beer bottles. (The estate agent had obviously had the place tidied and cleaned for their viewings.)
The next thing was the players' strike. They wanted more money. And all I could think of was that pig sty, the ball player (who shall remain namelss, but he's really famous) who was making millions but didn't have the decency to hire a housekeeper.
I've never watched a game since.
Anyway, thanks for the cute story, Brandon. If there is baseball in heaven, I hope they have cleaning ladies there too.
I love baseball, softball,. t-ball, you name it. I used to play when I was younger, and I have loved the sport ever since. I love the Red Sox. Yay Boston lol. oh baby crying bbl.
