A Friendly Jock Reunion  I walk into a building where baseball is being played. It seems to be a practice because there is a batting cage around the batter. There are, however, teams there, and people timing pitch speed and selling concessions. I see my high school teammates Simon Naver and Binky Ahmed, who are participating in the game in some way. Binky may have the radar gun. I shake their hands and we talk. I haven't seen them in a while. My old coach Shooter Jackson is there. I see him and we talk. His face is covered in bits of toilet tissue: he has really cut himself badly when shaving. Then the bits of tissue are gone. I ask him how this year's team is doing. He says pretty shitty. I ask if they are young, and he says yes, telling me about several sophomores and juniors.