Tell me yesterday was Friday. It couldn't have been. It had to be Monday.
It had to be Monday when the day started with one kid wanting to borrow a credit card and another wondering why I didn't have a fishing pole she could use to go trolling for the Loch Ness Monster in a golf course pond.
It had to be Monday when I awakened to a cement mixer grinding and groaning outside the kitchen window and a woman on the telephone telling me all I had to do to win a trip to Chernobyl was sit through a two-hour sales pitch.
It had to be Monday when I poured transmission fluid into the engine and it ran out a leak onto the driveway.
On this Monday-like Friday, I took a shower without remembering to get a towel out of the closet.
Outside of any of this, how was the morning? Fine. Just fine.
A cup of coffee would certainly get the day restarted in the right direction. I don't know where Joe DiMaggio has gone, but he was sure right about those coffee makers.
Shortly thereafter, I came upon this word: Epistemology.
The telephone rang. A friend was reading the same story, on the sports page, of all places. He, too, wondered about epistemology.
Naturally, it took a story about Eric Show to get such a word into print, Eric being the erudite chap that he is. One of his two favorite books is "Atlas Shrugged" because it mixes romanticism with a "very solidly backed-up objectivist epistemology."
And the telephone rang again. This caller wondered about the location of Rich Gossage's fastball.
Obviously, this was going to be a Friday for answering questions. Wisdom is such a responsibility.
What does epistemology mean?
I had to go to the dictionary for this one. It's not a word that tumbles off my tongue on a daily basis. The dictionary says epistemology is the study or theory of the origin, nature, methods and limits of knowledge. Knowing all of this, I still can't tell you why Eric Show likes "Atlas Shrugged."
What is Show's other favorite book?
"Gone With the Wind." I think this is a biography of that guy who used to play the outfield in Atlanta. Brett Butler.
Where has Goose's fastball gone?
With the wind. Just kidding, Goose. However, the last time I saw Gossage's fastball, it was landing in the right-field seats in Pittsburgh. It had been creamed by Sid Bream.
Why is the Charger defense being brought in by itself for a mini-camp next weekend?
As I understand it, the idea is to instill confidence. The defense cannot possibly be scored upon if no offense is on the premises.
What kind of qualities will San Diego State be seeking in its search for a new golf coach?
Sales and marketing skills. All SDSU coaches are required to sell football season tickets, and this hiring presents the first opportunity to find a coach who has a background in either encyclopedia or cookie sales. The only other prerequisite is that he be capable of breaking 100 on the back nine at Torrey Pines South.
What's a bip?
That's a good question. I looked it up in the dictionary, and no such word exists. I have heard it suggested in the Padre clubhouse that bip is a synonym for hot dog. However, at 5-feet 7-inches, 150 pounds, Leon Roberts is more the size of a Vienna sausage.
What ever happened to Michael Cage?
He has spent two years with the Clippers, hoping he might eventually impress scouts from the National Basketball Assn.
Who is wearing Steve Garvey's uniform?
I've wondered that myself. The guy is hitting home runs at a pace that will give him close to 30 for the season. If I'm a pitcher for Montreal, I don't let go of the ball until the fellow in Garvey's uniform is fingerprinted and positively identified.
Wasn't it nice of Bob Bell's partners to give him a vote of confidence?
Are you kidding? The poor man better get his house on the market and his suitcase packed. How long can a man last carrying the burden of a vote of confidence?
Is Eric Show long-winded?
Let me simply explain that my favorite sentence in Friday's interview contained 94 words and ended: ". . . to say the very least." I felt cheated. Is that all there is?
Why did the Chargers sign quarterback Tom Flick?
He will be a specialist. He will be on the field only when a flea-flicker has been called.
Ah, the sun has broken through the clouds and the telephone has been quiet since the kid who wanted to borrow a fishing pole called to ask if I could get her a discount on general admission tickets to the Padre game.
This seems like as good a time as any to slip out the back door. Maybe I'll open a beer, turn on the radio and contemplate the "objectivist epistemology" of Jerry Coleman's play-by-play.