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Andrew L.'s avatar

It's the early 90s and I'm in Tyson's Corner mall with my father. We're standing in line for a Little League luncheon where Boog Powell was going to be the featured speaker.

We're standing in line and look behind us and there's Boog Powell himself. I'm a little awestruck, I'm a little shy but my dad asks if he has any advice for a Little Leaguer who needs some hitting tips.

"Yeah," he bellows and laughs. "Swing hard in case you hit it!"

Got an autographed ball with his signature right across the sweet spot in thick black Sharpie. It's a cheap ball, not made out of tanned cowhide but some sort of synthetic plastic material. It has teethmarks on it from a dog and it sits in my desk drawer and makes me smile when I see it.

Boog is a treasure. Impossible not to love him if you're an Orioles fan or a fan of baseball from a certain time period.

Glad to know I'm not the only one that has a card or two on their desk that makes them happy. They rotate in and out from time to time. Joe, if you're reading, that might be a good column topic.

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