“You’re not a baseball fan, are you?” “Not really,” I said. “I just know you play for a team that’s C-something. I don’t even know what the C stands for.” “Good.” “I thought famous people wanted all the fans they could get.” “Not me. I don’t want people thinking I hung the moon ’cause I can hit a baseball a long way. And it’s nice hangin’ with someone who isn’t pushing stuff at me to sign. To you, I’m just a weird brother in an RV, and I wanna keep it that way. So what happened back there?” I told him about the sports report on the TV and how it said he was on the DL. He told me “DL” was short for “disabled list.” I told him about the woman who grilled me about traveling with him and how I blew my story about being a pitcher going to Bible baseball camp. “Helluvan effort,” he chuckled. I wanted to change the subject. “Are you really injured?” “Yeah.” He tapped his forehead. “Up here.” “Did you get hit with a baseball?”
What do You think about You Don't Know About Me (2011)?
