Die Like An Eagle
“Only a drizzle, but a steady drizzle. And while it was still dark outside, someone had left the driveway light on, so when I peeked out the window I could see enough puddles to tell that it had been drizzling for some time. Or maybe pouring for part of the night.
I sighed, and pulled out my phone.
“Relax,” Michael mumbled from the bed. “No baseball this morning. Too wet.”
“You coaches and players can relax,” I said. “We acting league presidents have to worry about how much longer it’s going to be raining, and whether there’s any chance we can rescue tonight’s games or at least tomorrow’s.” Not to mention whether our predecessors were going to do anything to make the transition even more difficult.
“Don’t fret; it’s just for the time being,” Michael said. “I’m sure Lem will be back on the job before too long.”
Or if he wasn’t, I had a couple of other ideas about people I could draft to take over for me. But for now … “Can you take care of the boys today while I focus on baseball?”
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