Young Roy Halladay was born in that letterman’s jacket. Over the years, it grew with him.
The look in Young Roy Halladay’s eyes says, “I might make love to you in the back of a sensible sedan, or I might go to church.”
Young Roy Halladay has been said to resemble “Orel Hershiser with extra America sauce.”
Young Roy Halladay once, at age four, removed his growing letterman’s jacket and, at the behest of his mother, put on the most adorable sailor’s blouse for a posed Olan Mills portrait. Afterward, he removed the sailor’s blouse, wrapped it around a United States phone book, and tore it in half. “Never again,” he told his mother. “I love you,” his mother said. “Never again,” said Young Roy Halladay.
Young Roy Halladay is capable of inducing “sexual fainting” in exactly a million cheerleaders, all at once.
That’s not Young Roy Halladay’s Adam’s Apple; that’s a second, even stouter heart.
Young Roy Halladay has a stack of postcards from the protective fathers of the world. Each one reads: “It would be my privilege if you impregnated my teenage daughter. I shall lean a sturdy ladder against her second-floor bedroom dormer. The window is unlocked. Careful of the ivy.”
Young Roy Halladay is there for those with nowhere left to turn.