Ah, When Spring Is Here, Where Will Boone Be?

I love Anaheim in August. What a splendid place to be. Yes, my tan is perfect and the whole world is in love. But, wait, what is this ugly mess below?

I watch in horror as second base becomes second nature to opposing baserunners. I witness the once-sturdy Angel pitching staff’s ERA balloon like Terry Forster’s waistline at Christmas dinner. I wince at a dazzling display of passed balls, dropped third strikes, and majestic home runs.

Yes, it’s August ’87 in Anaheim. My true love and I sip pina coladas in the warm bleacher sun. She tells me she loves me. Yet, I can’t help thinking: I wonder what Bob Boone is doing today.

STEPHEN FELDMAN

Los Angeles