Baseball is a kid in Mid Michigan listening to a tongue tied guy from Georgia on the WJR signal, way after the kid's supposed to be in bed sleeping on a summer night in Michigan. Hanging on his every word about his beloved Motor City Kitties and whatever other incredible story said tongue tied fella weaved together like a fine persian silk rug. Baseball IS Ernie Harwell. RIP.
Northern Michigan as well. Staying up until 1 in the morning for the end of a game in Anaheim or Seattle. Hearing the crackling of the WWPZ signal while out on Lake Michigan, fishing with my grandfather on Sundays in a little 1969 Boston Whaler 13 footer. Ernie, always there, talking about Tram's last at-bat or how a guy from Coopersville was taking home a souvenir.
Baseball is going to a State Park for a family reunion, walking through that park and never missing a pitch, cause Every picnic table had a radio on listening to Ernie call the game.
