Temper, Temper

July 4, 1995. Madison, Indiana. It was hot and I didn’t really want to be there. I think it was the only time I didn’t really want to play baseball. It was the day I did one of the most foolish things I’ve ever done on a baseball field. After warming...

Find a Veteran, and Listen

He warned me. For years. He warned me that my temper would catch up with me. It was explosive, that temper. It raged at my own failure, at umpires, at those who didn’t play hard, and many other targets. It raged the day I shattered a finger after being picked...