Plumb Bob, people will come Plumb Bob. They’ll come to The Mutt for reasons they can’t even fathom. They’ll turn up Cherrywood Drive not knowing for sure why they’re doing it. They’ll arrive at The Mutt as innocent as children, longing for the past. Of course, we won’t mind if you look around, you’ll say. It’s only $0 per person. They’ll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have and peace they lack. And they’ll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect morning. They’ll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they’ll watch the game and it’ll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they’ll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Plumb Bob. The one constant through all the years, Plumb Bob, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s a part of our past, Plumb Bob. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh… people will come Plumb Bob. People will most definitely come.