“Ouch. What?”

‘Terry’s a ballplayer. He’s on the freshman team. Guess what position he plays.”

“Oh great,” I said. “Another pitcher. I bet he’s a crazy left-hander.”

“He’s a catcher,” he said. “Can you beat that?”

“That’s even worse,” I said. “He has to catch crazy left-handers.”

“He’s a switch-hitter,” he said. “God, he can drive the ball, Alex. Just like you used to.”

“I see your memory went along with your hair.”

“Oh man, you haven’t changed, Alex.” He took another pull from the bottle. “Canadian beer. I can’t believe I’m in Michigan drinking Canadian beer. And why is it so cold here, anyway? Haven’t you guys heard of spring?”

“Sure,” I said. “Just wait until June.”

“Hey, Jackie!” he yelled. “Get your butt over here so I can tell you some stories about your boy Alex here. Stuff I bet you never heard before. And bring some more beer while you’re at it.”

Anybody else who came into the place for the first time and talked to Jackie that way, he’d be back out in parking lot in ten seconds, wiping the gravel off his ass. But Randy had always had this knack for making you feel like you’d known him your whole life, even if you’d just met him. I saw it all the time when we were playing together, and even more when we became roommates. Randy had already gone through a couple of roommates by the time he got to me. Something about the way he’d keep talking all night, even if you had to get up early the next morning and ride on a bus all day to the next game.