27

I turned 27 on a bus approaching the border control between Bulgaria and Turkey. By the time the 17 hour day ended I was celebrating 4000 feet in the air over China having a beer and watching the Hangover. Since started this blog there have been a lot of things that tied themselves together in the meaning of the name of this blog. Before I start, let me excuse myself for any mistakes or lack of editing of this post. This is the morning after celebrating my teams' first win/game for my new team in Perth, Australia. I guess writing while hungover is becoming a common occurrence but if it was good enough it was for Hemingway and Bukowski its good enough for me.

After wearing 17 in high school, 27 was always the number that I chose for my baseball jersey. It is also the number of outs in a baseball game; recorded consecutively, they make a perfect game. At 27 years old I chased a game for 26 years. A game that, for me and many others, defines their childhood, connects them to their home, their family, and their friends.  Just yesterday I got a whiff of the familiar sharp smell of pine tar I said, "this reminds me of the best days of my life." It reminded me of the time of my life where I was first getting a taste of freedom and but still getting spend care free time playing a game with my friends. At seventeen my love for the game became my life. For the next ten years, like any love, I completely committed myself to it, I made any sacrifice that it demanded that I make, and I gave my life to it and got back some of the worst pain and the greatest glory. Everything in my life was framed by the game and I have been far beyond lucky to have friends and family, teachers and coaches who have allowed me to live in this frame.  The game has led me on a great journey that has introduced me to the best human beings that I know over miles of north American road and eventually to Holland.

I thought Holland might be the end of this wild road after some odd ups and downs in the last few years. I guess it seems appropriate but then again nobody ever recorded the 27th out.  Just like the conversation that got me to Holland, I first that was a joke but a few days past and a serious commitment was made to play in Australia. Less than a week later I was leaving a little village in Bulgaria where I woke up to sounds of roosters crowing to hearing Magpies cry in new home here in Perth. 27 is going to be another great year of  baseball and I'm praying for extra innings.

My computer is broken so I will skip a couple of posts about Bulgaria that are on the hard drive for now.