This sums up my baseball memories scarily-well.
If you're a little younger, you cherish Joe Crede's defense, Aaron Rowand's hustle, El Duque's one inning and Robin Ventura's very existence. You cheered for Jim Thome's 500th homer like he hit them all here and you wish Big Hurt would've retired on the South Side. In your head, you hear Gene Honda calling him to the plate, and you see him stand there, willing to take a walk or smack a home run.
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