For the first time, a departure from the usual stuff you read on this blog, but hey — it’s a weekend in August and I should be on vacation, anyway.

OK, so I had this dream. For real. I was in Houston for some crazy reason and was watching an old-guys baseball league game. It was just a game in a city park among a bunch of guys I didn’t think I knew. I didn’t realize it when I got there, but Clyde Drexler was playing in the game. For some reason, he didn’t seem at all surprised that I was there watching.

Anyway, pitching against Clyde’s team was Bill Laimbeer, and he was throwing pretty hard. Clyde was just seething that they were losing to him. Huffing and puffing and snorting on the mound, Laimbeer had the bases loaded and a full count on the batter when he quick-pitched him. The guy managed to hit the ball, but it was a lazy fly to left field and Laimbeer was out of the inning.

I sort of casually went behind the backstop and mentioned to the umpire that I thought that was a quick pitch by Laimbeer and he sort of hit his forehead and said, “You know, you’re right,” and brought everyone back out on the field and called a balk on Laimbeer.

So now Laimbeer was steamed at me and was headed my way. This is about the time that I woke up. Seriously. And wondering where in the hell that dream came from. I’m not a guy who usually even remembers his dreams, but well, you can’t really forget one like that. Got any ideas on what that dream meant? And please, be nice.

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