Eric 2009/06/25 8:10am

The new Jenny Brook site looks like something from a postcard set in a valley surrounded by green rolling hills in Tunbridge, VT, at the "World Famous Tunbridge Fairgrounds. The spirit that filled the former site made its way to Tunbridge as well, but there is so much more space -- I think the festival promoters, Candi and Seth Sawyer, are going to need it! I heard so many people say, "It's going to be the new Thomas Point Beach," referring to the giant Maine festival that recently closed. Who knows? I saw a lot of smiling faces who will tell others, I'm sure. For now, it's wonderful just the way it is. 

My ego took a shot this weekend. A freshly-painted white fence stood between me and the restrooms. I contemplated jumping it, but then thought better of it and crawled between the top and bottom boards. I still don't know if I could have made it, but I did not want to fail in front of so many people. A young guy, maybe 18 or 19, followed me and jumped it like a deer in its prime. I said, "Man, you're braver than I am." He gave me a cocky look and said, "Well, you're only thirty years older than I am." Thirty years!? Maybe twenty. I gave him my best shot at a Clint Eastwood glare and said, "I'm pretty tough for an old guy." I couldn't help it. He said no more. 

I don't know if that's what drove me to find my curveball after so many years, but I found it this week. My sons are getting as crazy for baseball as I am, and I've been throwing every day with them that I'm home since snow came off the ground. They both want to pitch and both did in their leagues this year. Kelley is 13, and before this week I'd only shown him a two-seam fastball and a four-seamer. I taught him a circle change when I got back from Tunbridge and he's already getting the hang of it. I won't show him a curve until he's a few years older as I don't want to ruin his arm. I do, however, need to remember it myself if I'm going to teach him at some point. It all came back to me this week. Shorten the stride, slightly dip the front shoulder, pull the string...God, it feels good to throw when it's warm out. In my head I'm 18 again, but I forget it's about him now and not me. I snap off a good one that he misses and it smashes the top of his foot. As my kid limped off to school today, I thought about that fence jumper and wished I could face him one time on the mound.