Grit’s Mailbag

Let’s try something new.

Either Sierra Nevada Celebration or Highland’s Cold Mountain gets the best beer nod, but the first Miller Lite I had w my pops was the best one I’ve ever had. I’ve also had a day old warm half drank Red Stripe I found in the shower one Sunday morning that gave me life again when Saturday’s headache was planning on putting me in the dirt. That beer was life changing. Chugged a beer when buddies died. Clinked cans when babies were born. Cheers’d shit beer with brothers I haven’t seen in a while. Those were great too. I don’t know @BigOrangePruitt, maybe the next beer is the best beer.

Man. This is rough. I know your pain. You see a kid come up. You sweat over him as a damn Portland Sea Dog. He becomes family before he becomes a bat. Before the stardom you fall in love with the potential. You remember the first time he hits the lineup. You remember that late June call up in June of 2014. You remember his first hit in his first game against the Yankees in the 4th inning. It felt right. Then in 2018 he won every damn award available.

I know I’m not making this easy Cameron. Guess what? It’ll never be easy seeing him in Dodger Blue. You aren’t just a Sox fan. You are a Mookie fan. Plan accordingly.

Jack McBrayer. That voice is equal parts Heaven, Hell, and those little huckleberries that used to stick to your shoelaces.

Nobody puts Tom-Yam in the corner. Also it’s not crazy until it is.

Antigua, Iceland, Yosemite

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