Here is wisdom.
Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast:
for it is the number of a man;
and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.
Revelation 13:18, Bible, King James Version
Out of the depths of a cold dark Ottawa winter came a ray of sunshine in an e-mail from Donnie the Balls organizer. “Anyone up for some baseball in America in early July.”
The rest of the Sextet were all in – for the moment.
Anon, more details came from Donnie. “Since we loved Rochester so much last year, how be we do four days there and one in Syracuse on the way down?”
Alas, two of the group (Paddy and Young Dirk) dropped out due to other commitments. They were down to a Quartet.
One fine day in early July, Mort picked up Ronnie and Charlie and Donnie, and headed for the border. They lucked out and got a friendly Border Official at the Ivy lea crossing.
Quick scan of their passports. “So where you boys off to?”
“Syracuse for a baseball game then three more in Rochester.”
“No baseball back home?”
“Nah. Our Lynx moved to Allentown a while back.”
“That’s a shame. Well have a good time.” Back came the passports.
Down the Interstate they motored until they reached the Price Chopper in Watertown.
“Time for a pit stop and some cheap Yankee beer.”
Moments later all but three beers were stored in a cooler. Three of the boys were sipping on a cold one. Mort was abstaining, of course, because he was driving. Back in the car they got and soon could see the skyline of Syracuse looming before them.
First stop the Dinosaur BBQ Restaurant for some hearty fare. It was famous for being the first of its kind in America. It was also famous for caveman huge platters of meat. Their devilled eggs were devilishly good, so they started with a couple of orders to share. They followed with platters of ribs and pulled pork and brisket and beans and corn bread and . . .
Well and truly stuffed, they headed off to the Maplewood Inn to check in and sip on a few beers. They swapped a few tall tales and soon found themselves at the Front Desk.
“Can we book the courtesy shuttle to the ballpark?”
The friendly driver had them there in no time. “Give me a call when the game’s over. I’ll pick you up.”
The stadium was fabulous, the game exciting and the Genesee draught oh so refreshing. They even found room for a ballpark sausage. Not surprisingly they slept like rocks that night.
