The eloquence of headlines.
It’s a funny thing; baseball fans, they start seeing things, things that may or may not be there. Everyone with a beard, everyone with a boyish face, a bit too much party in the back.
Champing at the bit for a crack of bat and a play ball; the time is nearly nigh.
Willie Mays shows a 2 year-old his baseball Christmas tree, 1964.
Not even remotely religious, but like the idea of an advent calendar. So for the next two weeks or until I tire of it, expect the exciting gift of an historic photograph or other suitable seasonal imagery.
This first one’s from my tireless archival friends at the SFPL’s SF History Center.
In case you forgot, here’s how to treat those visiting our fair city for this series. Click through to the link.
Skeeter Fanning, thanks to the SFPL History Center.
I had a headache like this last night.
How can you not have a soft spot for the Cubbies? And the lack of pun?
This is the last one, promise.
Source of image and the story here.
As evinced by the last post,
clearly not over the local sports team’s feats.
Proving that the only thing to rival baseball is baseball history, you can read about Glenn Burke over at Uptown Almanac, or some Giants history over at the Asian Art Museum.
I’m pretty much guaranteed to burn out soon, and my field camera has returned from repairs, so let’s look forward to regularly scheduled reportage, shall we?
