There were a lot of great memories on the field, but maybe it was my one and only close encounter- up in the warehouse district after a win- I think he hit one that night- and Kirby at the next table scarfing plate after plate of wings.  I gave him a fist bump with his non-wing hand, in my Summit-fueled haze.  "You want one man?" he said.  "Naw, Kirby," says I, "sluggers get all the wings, I'm just a banjo hitter."  He laughed that laugh, and I'd had my moment.  

Nice story.