Ahhh, the night games on the coast. Long ago memories of the smuggled transistor hidden under the pillow, with the surreptitious ear phone in the pillow-side ear, and feigning restful sleep. And that late, sometimes could get a Twin Cities station, with the actual pre-game show, and post-game, too, if you were still awake. All those exotic sounding ads in between for things that City People buy, instead of the fertilizer promos and livestock prices during the inning breaks, and no post-game, cuz we gotta rush right into the farm report... Signal fading in and out while the Twinks battled the California Angels, (or Seattle Pilots!), and nodding off sometime around the 5th or so with that giant earplug cracking away. And now, at my desk in bloody Hong Kong, catching a gambling-site feed from Vladivostok. Tempora mutantur, Jack. Tempus fugit, too.