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We bought the farm, not to grow anything, but because it came with so much food. The farmer had died without a will and let it go for taxes, complete with furniture and cars, and in the barn some big machines we siphoned of their gas to joyride down the country lanes. Read the rest of this entry »

He was never the brash young hurler from Texas or Australia who brushed back batters from the plate with high inside heat. From the start, he threw more college stuff. I didn’t try to change him. I work with what I know is on the mound on game day. Read the rest of this entry »

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Behind the Pseudonym

The pen name davidbdale honors my mother Beatrice (Bea) and my father Dale

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