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Watching the muscular Red Sox crush four homers and the Dodgers in game five to win the World Series, I’m reminded that at age ten I was the youngest and skinniest boy on our Triple A baseball team and didn’t play much and when I did I always struck out. Late in the season I got to bat against a pitcher I’d yearned the face, the only guy in the league who threw lots of changeups, the only pitch slow enough for me. Still I swung late but hit a line drive the right fielder playing shallow fielded on the first hop and fired to first keeping me O for the season.

This entry was posted in Baseball, Boston, George Thomas Clark.