The grass is groomed into broad stripes, diagonals if the sun hits it right. The lights are so good that an 8:00 p.m. game still looks like noon. At left is my son, Charles, my husband behind me (that' sme with the shadow all over my face. Then comes Karen, Charles' wife, my daughter, Heather, her husband, Jesse, my grandson, Jacen, and all the way down, my granddaughter, Rebecca.
Do you think A-rod was hit in the head on purpose?
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