I'm a Ranger, a new Belgian beer ranger.

You can't see my uniform because we're on the radio, but you can bet I'm wearing it

with pride.

Wandering the land from coast to coast, bringing good beer to the masses, while I can develop

quite a thirst.

Now we've crafted a beer with Simco, Chinook, and Cascade hops, the Ranger IPA, so bold

and refreshing it can satisfy a ranger's thirst.

Try a new ranger IPA and then head online to get in uniform at newbellgim.com.

Employee-owned, alternatively empowered, new Belgian brewing.

Follow your folly, ours is beer.

This is the short, near-listening, to the dirt-back diaries.

The first time someone asked me to compare scars, I drew a blank.

Other than a few indistinguishable puckering on my knees, from sliding into second base,

my skin was relatively unmarred.

Somehow those didn't seem like a worthy answer to the question.

We were talking about prideful, battle badges.

I had none.

I hadn't even broken a bone I'd mined.

I jinxed myself that night.

Within two years I had more than my fair share.

Some scars, only I am likely to notice, like the side of the tip of my ring finger that

I lost in the meat slicer while working at a deli and bakery until you ride.

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