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Joe Posnanski In His Mother's Basement


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I've run out of words to describe Joe's writing. I'll let it speak for itself.

Suffice it to say, this was my childhood to a tee.

In one area of the unfinished basement, my dad hung a tire from a rope that I would take swings against. There was a rafter with a gap between the ceiling. The gap was too small for a regulation basketball to go through, but it was perfect for a mini-ball to be dunked through. Especially the Pizza Hut 1990 Final Four ball. Needless to say, I developed my Ozzie Smith-like fielding skills by bouncing a ball off the wall for hours. And oh yeah, my brother and I succeeded Cal and Billy as the Orioles DP combo.

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