Evin "The Locomotive" Murphy finds time to belt out taint-tingling prose for LBMS from his real estate office in Laguna Beach, CA. In this edition, The Loco waxes nostalgic and beats down kids for snack-bar-bucks-redeemable foul balls at the local little league ballyard.
When you’re in your early twenties and you ride a desk for a living there’s only one thing that gets you through the grind. For me that one thing is little league baseball.
I think about it all the time; the snack bar gummy worms, taking grounders with your friends, wondering when you’ll be big enough to put one in the seats.
My nostalgia for America’s pastime prompted me to conclude that I should join a hardball team; lather my senses with big league chew, manicured grass, bean balls, beer bellies and polish sausage. Plus, it will be something to break up the monotony of my memoirs, which currently read: “Day 7940: Jacked off again...”