The contest at Bells is called on. 30ish minutes of waiting for a start.
In the midst of lunch for the kid, lunch for myself, afternoon baseball, mental planning.
A quick toss outside. The event has slipped my mind. ‘Pop’ goes the leather. The rain is gone.
My team lost, again. What else happened? I could use some coffee. The contest.
Crumbly, weak, down-the-line Winkipop. Not Bells. Cut line talk. Narratives. Headlines. Manufactured drama. Faux entertainment. Click.
Who’s playing the night game? Hey grom, driving range? Anything else.
One thought peering around the corner, tickling my brain. It won’t let me alone. Kelly Slater cut. Rebel Tour emerges.