Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For Heaven and the future’s sakes.
—Robert Frost

Looking at a ball game is like looking through a stereopticon.  Everything seems heightened.

The grass is greener.  The uniform whites are brighter than they should be.  Maybe it’s the containment.

The narrowing of focus.  On the other hand, maybe it’s the tendency to drink six or eight beers in the early innings.

Quirk shook his head.  “Get out of this, Spenser.  You’re in with people that will waste you like a popsicle on a warm day.”

“Wally Hog will kill anyone Doerr tells him to.  He doesn’t like it or not like it.  Slow or fast, one or a hundred, whatever.

Doerr points him and he goes bang.  He’s a piece with feet.”

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