Grits and Tamales

Life in the Deep South, by Gabriel Aguilera

Thank You Vin Scully

“You tricked us into thinking you were just a sports announcer, when really you were a poet…when we were lost for words, you were Norman Rockwell.” -Kevin Costner

Costner delivered a fine speech tonight that old Dodger fans will never forget, one that will forever remind us that we were blessed to have our lives inspired by the best poet sportscaster who ever lived, one who painted portraits in our mind with cadenced sentences of joyous prose.

I  sometimes listened to games lying on a linoleum floor with the stereo speakers low so my brothers could watch our small black and white TV.

My Boyle Heights summers were filled with baseball and the Dodgers, with him calling games and pitching Farmer John.

In the third grade my teacher had a shelf of baseball books for kids, books about Mathewson, Ruth, Cobb and more — I read these all and fell in love.

I first picked up the LA Times to read of baseball; of Garvey, Lopes and Penguin Cey.

These last few days I’ve been falling asleep sad-hearted to the games, still called by him as they marched towards the pennant, this in his last year.

Baseball will go on and so will I, his music, though, will neither cease nor die inside my mind.

For the rest of my life it will not be hard for me to close my eyes and hear his music as I always did, from boyhood until my 49th year.


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