No popcorn...no peanuts and no crackerjacks

I'm a former sports writer and I have nothing to write about.

Soon to be 75, my little corner of the world has disappeared.

And to make matters worse, the media says I'm a vulnerable old person.

The gates are locked at Hi Corbett Field, Spring Training is no longer an option as the wind echoes through all the vacant, beautiful baseball facilities in the Phoenix area. No crack of the bat...no March Madness...no Final Four ahead.

We're left with a bunch of TV news channels showing us the way to oblivion. You buy a local paper and there's nothing but day-old news in it and on the back of the sports section, no scores...no results...no sports heroes to read about.

For an aging sports writer, suddenly there's no light at the end of the tunnel. Not one ball is bouncing off the green monster at Fenway Park, no cheering inside the confines of a basketball arena and no hurry to get to the ball park, grab some popcorn...some peanuts and some crackerjacks.

Some of us live and still play for the love of the game.

Let's hope this is just an extending seventh inning...a lengthy timeout and this too shall pass.