This began as a comment on Mom's blog but it was too long. So this little tale gets its own post.

Wednesday night's ballgame was interesting. With the scoreboard not working, it was easy to lose track of things. On the field we'd lose track of the score and the inning. It felt like pick-up ballgames did when I was a kid and the game's end was not determined by the number of innings but by when someone's mom called them home.

At one point I found myself recollecting the summertime curfew of 'when the streetlights come on,' though that wouldn't have worked Wednesday because the ballfield lights were as dead as the scoreboard.

As the game headed into extra innings I had a brilliant idea. Mom and Dad were there, so if we got a lead I was going to have Mom yell "Kevin, it's time to come home!" Then I could just look around and say "sorry, my mom is calling me. I gotta go."

Hey, it used to work for Joe Clark.

Unfortunately (mostly because my hitting was not nearly as brilliant as my idea) we never got the lead.