This is Part II of a two-part column. Part I appeared yesterday.  

There were three scoreboards floating separately out in center field — one, two, three.

Ron Santo quickly looked out to the mound.

“Bill Singer was the pitcher for the Dodgers and there were three of him — one, two, three,” said Santo, former third baseman and current radio broadcaster for the Chicago Cubs.

“And I go, ‘Oh my gosh, I’m having a reaction.’”

I’ve never been a huge fan of pants.

I wore sweat pants to school every day until sixth grade. Like the little shirts I had my mom sew for my Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal, or the phase I spent painting rocks and selling them for 25 cents to my mom’s friends, it was just something I did. I didn’t consider how other people would perceive these things. I wasn’t trying to stand out. An understanding of social dynamics, acute observation, and discerning judgment: these were not strong points of my youth. Blissful ignorance and naiveté, well, I was a Viking at those.