RANDY ST. CLAIRE IS THE MOTHERF’N MAN
Been a little while since I updated this baby…secret missions and all that. I did knock out a couple articles for Atlanta Magazine, including one on the old Ramblin’ Raft Race–this was a festival of drunken hedonism that pretty much consumed Atlanta throughout the Seventies, with somewhere close to half a million people gathering at the Chattahoochee River to violate most of the Ten Commandments several times over.

Anyway, part of being a fulltime writer means that you sometimes have to suffer through events that others with 9-to-5 jobs get to avoid–things like taking the boy to a 1:00 ballgame, for instance. Logan and I hit the Braves/Nats game yesterday, and got there early enough to watch batting practice. As we hung out at fieldside (see pic below), Randy St. Claire, pitching coach for the Nationals, came by and handed Logan a BP-used baseball. All the autograph geeks around us were pissed; Logan, for his part, never even stopped sipping on his juice box, just extended his hand like he deserved nothing less. The only men on the field kinder than St. Claire were the Braves pitchers, who were courteous enough to give the Nats some extra batting practice during the game–the Braves lost 11 to 4.

Jay

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