Summer may be hot, sticky, and miserable at times here in the the blowtorch latitudes known as the Deep South (or lower Midwest-I've never been completely sure where Arkansas fits in that geographical slice of Mothership Earth), but we can always rest assured that the dogs are hot and the beer is cold when the
Boys of Summer come out to play.
The evening started with my buddy, Dave Miller, belting out the National Anthem (and doing a great job of it, I might add).
BTW-here's a little better shot of the girls standing behind him. You're welcome, guys.
And now, our National Anthem. Hit it, Dave!
Well Done, sir. Well Done.
Play Ball!
The Pitch.
Batta Batta Batta Batta Batta Batta Batta Swwiinnng!
Aaaaand, yer outta here!
Foul ball.
If you look closely you can see the end of his bat flying out on it's brief trip to Third Base - here in Arkansas that's what we call
Power Hitting
Good times at the Ballpark
(That's Dickey-Stephens Field in North Little Rock, folks)
Stop by the Beer Garden and tell 'em Dale sent you. Then, give 'em five bucks, they'll hand you a beer, look you in the eye and say,
"Who the hell is Dale?"
Good times indeed.
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