I was trying to listen to the game, but turned to the station and heard only silence. “Must be a rain delay,” I told my wife, except — and, please note, this is where events skew decidedly fantastic — except it wasn’t my wife in the next room, but radio voice of baseball’s Milwaukee Brewers, Bob Uecker, instead.
“This is clearly absurd,” I said. “You’re supposed to be in Milwaukee, not in my affordable apartment in Madison.” To which sentiment he responded: “Supposed to? I’m 77 years old, man. My only obligation now is to greet the abyss with something not unlike dignity.”
That was a great moment between us — probably one of my top-five as an adult so far, were I to make a list.
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