Eighty-Eight

We had a party for my father-in-laws 88th birthday.

He’s an absolute legend.

I had the seat across the table from him for the entire party, and we talked a lot of baseball, touched on politics, spoke of the past, and argued about the Yankees and his beloved Cleveland Indians/Guardians.

“Ramirez is having a lousy year,” I chided him.

“Lousy? He’s hitting .280. That isn’t lousy.”

“Judge is at .402,” I said. “Besides, Ramirez isn’t at .280.”

“Look it up,” he said.

I did.

“Ramirez is at .278,” I said. 

“See,” he said.

“See what? That isn’t .280.”

He laughed.

Amazing to me that he is on top of the stats. 

Then he spoke about the 1968 Yankees.

“They were lousy in ‘68,” he said. “They didn’t do crap until 1976.”

I knew he was right.

Sharp.

Then he ate.

A burger, a hot dog, macaroni salad, beans, a piece of cake and an ice cream.

“Dude, when was the last time you ate?”

He laughed.

It was a great day.

“Hoping I get to see the new stadium finished,” he said.

“Where you going?” I asked.

“Ah, who knows,” he said. “Into the abyss.”

“The way you ate?”

That’s when he mentioned the politics of the day.

“I’d like to see the new stadium open, but I definitely don’t want to see the end of the country. I’ve lived a long time, and this idiot.”

His voice trailed off.

Happy Birthday to a legend.

I’m hoping he has 25 more.