Women trouble . . .

JayRoam got me in trouble with Grace, our section guard at the Stadium last night, and so for the foreseeable future I'm going to have to wait for the next at-bat before getting down to my seat, even though it's on the aisle right next to the concourse.

I was already on the outs with the Guinness girl, who discovered that I had left her for the McSorley's Woman. It's only temporary - you need a lighter beer on 100 degree nights - but now I have to worry if she'll take me back.

At least Cousin Brewski understands. Vendor Number 22 was in fine fettle last night, still slinging like he did thirty years ago. (He claims thirty. I think it's probably at least forty, but we'll use his numbers.) Only thing is, the Cuz goes where the money is these days, so we rarely see him.

The complications of a pennant drive . . .