This morning was the funeral for my high school baseball coach. I think we were all surprised he was only 85; hell, when I played for him 20 years ago I thought he was 85.
I played in his 300th win (I'm guessing I won it single-handedly.) I remember it was drizzling, and after the game someone brought out either the smallest cake in the world or the biggest cupcake ever, and I'm sure we all thought this would be his greatest career milestone.
But he went on to win 125 more games after that, which is incredible. One of those was a state championship game. After the age of 65.
Life is like baseball. You never know.
Also, in my "projects I wanna do that I never will because I'm a lazy asshole" que: a book about high school coaches who stay at one school for fifty years or more.
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