I'm a bit shocked to hear Willie Mays died this week. Growing up my father was a sports writer (college not pro, but even still), and I spent more than a little time in locker rooms doing my homework while he worked. Pair that with the fact we had a minor league baseball team in town and we always had tickets. I never really followed sports as sports, but the culture of it, baseball especially and baseball of the generation or so before, has a special place in my heart.

Old people die, of course, and I didn't know him personally enough to have any sense of grief. But it still makes me feel a bit sad. Like a piece of a simpler world has slipped away, I guess.

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ETA: Unrelated, but I'm truly thankful to be down in the land of central air and not struggling through the heat dome with a fan and a bowl of melting ice. It sounds brutal. Stay cool if you can.