Craig Tyson Adams

Son, meet baseball . My old friend.  I was thinking back to the favorite sports conversation we had a few days ago, and I thought that spelling out my love for baseball would help you understand more than just telling it. When I was 8 years old, my grandfather called me into the house where he was watching a game. He sat me down and said, ‘I want you to watch this next hitter. His name is Willie Mays. He’s the greatest player I ever saw. I want you to tell your children that you saw him play.’ That was the beginning of my romance with baseball.  Baseball is unlike other sports for my generation because baseball is truly generational. My father took me to my first baseball game, just like his father took him.  I had the pleasure of attending a game with them both, which gave us a commonality, something of a reference that led to bonding unlike anything else. It was a shared experience that we could relate to.  I played baseball with my friends. The game would take place in an abandoned

A hospital orderly with a wheelchair arrives with the nurse. “Okay Sarah, we’re ready.”  Mike asked the nurse, “Is it okay if I go in with her?”  The hospital orderly gives the nurse a quick look.  “Getting stitches is a minor procedure that may take a little longer than you think. You mentioned something about food a little while ago and you could go now if you like."  “I will be fine. Have something to eat and I will text you when its over.” Sarah said. Mike leans over and gives Sarah a peck on the forehead.  “Okay. Please text me. I’ll see you when you get back.”  They took Sarah out of the room. Mike walks to the exit and heads out of the hospital.  As he walks through the waiting room, his eye catches a young girl.  She’s around 9 to 10 years old. Her face is white, and she has dark bags under her eyes.   “She looks haunted,” Mike said to himself.  Mike exits the hospital. He looks across the street and sees the 24-hour diner that the nurse recommended. Mike jaywalks and dash