20. That moment, while talking to Tigers manager Phil Garner, when you try to determine if that's powdered-doughnut residue on his upper lip, or just mustache dandruff.
21. The Strat-O-Matic baseball board game, which allows a 14-year-old boy, all by himself in the basement, to replay the entire schedule of the 1980 Royals and thus allow George Brett to hit .408 instead of .390 (not that I ever did any such thing).
22. The immortal Willie (Pops) Stargell, former spring training instructor for the Braves, in which capacity I once observed him leaning on a batting cage, at Remote Practice Field Q, taking a standing 20-minute nap behind highway-patrol sunglasses as 17-year-olds with triple-digit uniform numbers shagged flies in 96� heat. When I shook Pops from his coma to ask him for an interview, he jerked to life and abruptly blurted, "Can't! Gotta work! Gotta work, work, work!"
23. The word fungo.
24. The fact that coaches dress exactly as the players do, a custom unique to baseball (for which I am extremely grateful, as I am watching, at this very moment, the Georgia State basketball team coached by Lefty Driesell).
25. The mullet, also known as the Kentucky Waterfall, worn by John Kruk during his playing days with the Phillies.
26. Using your car key to dimple the chads on a dozen All-Star ballots at once.
27. The whole hotfooting, loogie-hawking, sign-giving, cap-tugging, cup-adjusting, Leo Mazzone-rocking, genitalia-scratching grand opera that precedes every single inconsequential pitch of every single inconsequential game.
28. Fenway and Wrigley, which will be united in heaven to form a single paradise of unearthly delights, known to all who enter it as Frigley. Or maybe Fengley.
29. The multicolored mosaic of my home team's pocket schedule, 162 tiles in red and blue and white and gray, and every square pregnant with possibility.