On 10/10/10, my evening was an absolute 11.

A friend of mine works at a local resort and tipped me off that one of my childhood heros was in town tonight.  I waited until my kids were in bed and then got the nod from my lady to make the fifteen minute drive to the resort.  All my Edgar memorabilia is in storage, so I walked in armed with my MacBook Pro and a Sharpie.  My buddy tipped me off that he was in the lounge and made my move -- after about ten minutes of pretending to watch the Eagles and 49ers.  As soon as the game was over I made my move.

"Edgar, sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to tell you: thanks for all the great years in Seattle.  You are a huge part of what I love about baseball.  Thanks."

He said thanks and we spoke for another minute.  Gar looks exactly the same; like he could still hit .313 and knock in 100 RBI.  I asked him to sign my laptop and after he did, I ran out of there like a little girl.  Didn't matter though. They say you shouldn't meet your heroes, but Edgar's worth it.  Class act.

I've got more to write about how my oldest son climbed Beacon Rock tonight and didn't need either of his parents to carry him for even a second.  But I'm on such a Papi-high right now that I can't think straight.

Thanks Edgar.  And thank to my friend who wishes not to be named.  Can't say I blame him; the job market isn't the best right now.

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