I don't like too many of George Will's columns but on one occasion he go it just right when he discussed what an aging pitcher brings to the mound when their arm is going. He said when the pitcher has nothing left to throw, they "throw their heart".
Typical sentimental baseball bullshit. But consider The Aging Fleetwoods singing perhaps the most beautiful song in the long history of Rock:
Sunday 23 August 1663
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(Lord's day). Up and to church without my wife, she being all dirty, as my
house is. God forgive me, I looked about to see if I could spy Pembleton,
but I ...
3 hours ago
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