After the nitro burning excitement of Saturday at the drags, I needed to mellow out. Once again combining my cub reporter part-time job with my desire to ride my marshmallow ass around West Michigan I headed west to see a game of vintage baseball played in the village of Douglas on the shore of the big lake.
Traveling in true MB style, I didn't have no stinking map nor GPS so I got a little lost. kept heading in the general direction. Rode on a couple of arrow straight state roads I will avoid in the future and found myself at the park in time for the national anthem and the game.
Vintage baseball. This dude is the umpire. He watches from a stool just a bit towards first by the plate. There are no strikeouts, no tagging up and a ball caught on the first bounce is an out just like a fly ball. (Hey, they are playing with no gloves on - give 'em a break.)