Wednesday, September 26, 2007


Baseball is a bit like a Western. First a tall guy arrives with a hat. He faces another tall guy with a hat. The second tall guy with a hat wants to go home, you can feel it, you can smell it. But the first tall guy with a hat doesn’t want him to. Not that he’s a bad guy or anything, but that’s his job. The two hardly look at each other, they are ready. The game is underway now. In Los Angeles, Atlanta or New-York, the sun goes down. On the other side of the planet, a major falls asleep.

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