Slaving away ultra-late at my office and so I don't notice at first when a text message came in from my Dad. Then, he called.
"Hang on, hang on!" he said immediately after I picked up, before I could even ask what was going on.
"Hello, Beth?" came another voice then. "This is Billy Lee."
What in the...how in the...
"Hi!!" I said as enthusiastically as I could, just going with it despite not having been aware of where my Dad exactly was at that moment, or how he'd met Bill Lee in the first place.
Lee gave me a little running commentary as I sat there, dumbfounded, listening to him describe how "Billy Hall is up at the plate now...3-1 count...he's a pretty good shortstop. You know he wears a little pad on his leg because he always hits foul balls off of himself..."
By this point I was sputtering, trying to form a question (asking if he referred to every 'Bill' as 'Billy' actually crossed my mind, but I thankfully thought better of it), and it came out as something like, "where...how...?"
It turns out my Dad is sitting behind Lee at the game at Fenway tonight. Being my Dad, he spotted Lee and immediately bought him a beer. Thus indebted, Lee agreed to talk to me, at his request.
And so last week, it was Carlton Fisk. This week, it's this. Never a dull moment, when it comes to my Dad and baseball.