Perfect timing, dude. Perfect timing.

Perfect timing. I get rid of that.

I'll say that stuff, Larry.

Well, Mayor, you have as a granddaddy, and of course, as a father before that, to a young baseball player,

gangly young baseball player, they have gone to plenty of youth baseball games, right?

I'll say.

So yesterday, I once again traveled a woodberry to watch the 10-year-olds play, and I really have a complaint.

Oh, okay.

What is the deal with between innings?

The World Series games, which have five minutes of ads, don't have as much bleep and time between bleep and innings as these little rats.

They're out. Get your ass out there, throw two pitches, get in the batter's box, and let's go here.

You got a two-hour time limit. You spend 25 minutes playing with yourself between innings. Get out there, go, move.

I can't add anything to it because I've given the same tirade at the park, and I was told to distance myself from the crowd that I was standing with.

Because it was driving me crazy, and I also went up to the hump. I got a hold of the hump, who was a youth. I said, hey, kid, come here.

What the hell are you doing, sis? Are you out of your mind? You're giving these teams 10 minutes between innings.

Let's go here, throw the ball.

We had a 15-16-year-old, a lot of these very urnors, but between every half-ending, you've got to go get a drink of water.

Your job is to make sure the next pitch is throwing 70 seconds after the last inning ended.

That's right.

I couldn't agree more. I don't know how that happened.

I got a, you know, the daughter-law wasn't there, but my stepson was there.

We were sitting properly socially distance, and I was doing the really not that far under my breath.

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