He was taking his at-bat from a silver-grey SUV parked outside the stadium. The bat hung from the driver-side window. I approached and opened the passenger door, pulled the handle and sat shotgun. I told him how much I enjoyed watching him and how important he had been to me and as I gushed his face looked pained and annoyed. I thought "how can I say this nicely?" but said nothing. Then I told him how sad it was to see him grow fat and how disappointed I was that he stopped trying; stopped caring. His face suddenly looked interested.â†µ
We walked down a street beside Greeley Park. We started talking about how good he could still be if he worked out and struggled to be his best. He was listening to me, hanging on my words like a guru. Then I thought about my friends and family and how I had lost track of them. We reached a parking lot and along the right row of parking spaces were SUVs parked in a cluster. I told Griffey I had to go and walked left and he walked right and down into the parking lot.â†µ
I reached my family, Alanya, and I remember her face and I remember knowing I had to go back, because I had left Griffey in bad company. I returned to the parking lot and found Griffey between a couple SUVs. They were partying. Music was blaring. Griffey was standing and encircling him were people of no distinction. I looked up into his face and told him "I can't help you, because I am busy and I have a book coming out and another on its way and another I am working on," and his face was disappointed and weary.â†µ
And then I woke up.