On a pitch count

When the youngest was a boy he loved baseball. He was an above average player and he loved to hit. As crazy as it sounds, he loved practicing, especially hitting. Several days a week we would be at an unused ball diamond, me pitching balls for him to hit. I had a five gallon bucket of balls and we would pick them up and then I’d throw them again. I would throw 100 to 150 pitches every outing. As he got older, that meant throwing harder to replicate what he would see in a game. 

Last night I dreamed about pitching to him. 

I woke with a sore shoulder. 

All I can think is that I slept with my arm above my head and my sleeping brain associated the pain with the old pitching days. 

I miss baseball. I’m ready for the season. Too bad greedy players and greedier owners cannot remember for whom they are playing.

Yeah, yeah, I know it is a business. That business model is based on entertaining fans. Leave the fans out and all you have is guys playing a game for free and fun. Or as it really is, millionaires and billionaires arguing about who gets a bigger slice of pie while no one plays baseball.