![]() Every dollar helps and goes directly to providing vaccinations, lifesaving surgical procedures, or even just clean water for someone who may not otherwise have access to medical care. Follow him help us in our drive to raise money for Doctors Without Borders. #NYJER MORGAN TRASH TALKER PROFESSIONAL#He covers Nippon Professional Baseball and the Australian Baseball League for Call to the Pen. Yakyu Night Owl is actually a person named Dave. Age and time are mere abstracts in a moment of pure joy. The camera catches a glimpse of the woman in the stands. The Yokohama crowd roars approval.Īs he heads to the dugout in a flurry of high fives, he flashes a last “T” to the fans near home plate. ![]() He gathers another layer of dust sliding in ahead of the throw. He deftly turns the corner and heads for home. Apologies and explanations can be made later. There’s a stop sign at third, but there’s a hunch in his gut too. #NYJER MORGAN TRASH TALKER CRACK#When the crack of the bat sends a single whizzing through the infield, he is off to the races. It’s time for another happy “T” before he takes his lead and locks in again. After arriving at the bag, he flashes a big smile and a “T” to the fans.Ī few pitches later he is dusting himself off at second while the catcher mutters and squats back behind the plate. A grin creeps across his face as he heads toward first base. He watches it go by like a bus with the wrong destination flickering above the windshield. She knows there is something special about this one too. If she was a little girl when she first set eyes on a diamond, the list of brilliant talents she may have witnessed reads like a history book. It is obvious that she has seen a whole lot of ballplayers in her day too. She knows all about the mental side of baseball. The things made better over and over with perseverance and practice. It is staggering to consider how much work has been done by the hands that passionately hold and shake the picture of her hero. A tremor swimming through her house at night sits her bolt upright, but there is no fear right now. The wrinkles in her face are organized into a timeless smile, but she has clearly seen a lot in her lifetime.ĭreams of broken cities and the low thrum of bomber engines may still leave her shaken and sweaty. It’s easy to imagine that she is a grandmother. It has a huge autograph across the front. In her hands is a giant poster of Tony Plush. Whenever the shot widens, her excited face is beaming and she shouts with the passion of a young girl. In moments, the horns are filling the ballpark again.Īll the while there has been a woman standing in front of her seat a few rows beyond the screen behind Morgan. ![]() Before long, the needle drops, the drums beat out an intro and the melody composed for his at bats roars back to life. The chanting and clapping is not unlike the machinations of a jukebox. The BayStars faithful lean into “Mor-gan” in unison over and over like ecstatic children jumping on a king size bed of rhythm. The cycle of stanzas are complete and have given way to shouts of encouragement and pounding drums. ![]() The pitcher studies the ball like an archaeologist working on an hourly wage. It throbs incessantly while the horns spill out a hook that would not seem foreign at all in the streets of New Orleans. There is a flourish and a certain swagger to the music pouring over the right field fence. ![]()
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