Sometimes even superheroes wear cleats. A player in pinstripes wearing number 27, with a cannon for an arm and an instinct for the game far beyond his peers, could make every hero before him fade into the dust of his strides, friends and foes alike
Thank you, Vlad.
One of the perks of being friends with Dom was that he lived in Sainte-Adèle, and because he lived in Sainte-Adèle, he was naturally friends with Chris Speier. Well, not really. Chris never took a bike ride with us. But Dom kinda-sorta knew his son, Justin, which meant that hanging out with his pro ball dad and talking about Gary Carter was at least a possibility.
But something even better happened one afternoon. Chris and us played catch for a good seven minutes. Seven minutes. Probably the best seven minutes of my life.
People today like to say that kids back then were lucky not to be plagued by mobile phones and social media, those things that supposedly kill our ability to live in the moment. And sure, maybe we were more present back then.
But I’ll tell you this. I would have gladly traded my Rubik’s Cube for one lousy picture of me standing with Chris Speier, wearing my Star Wars shirt and holding onto my banana-seat bicycle, just so I could post it on Facebook with the caption: “Me and my bestie, Chris Speier,” and wait for the LIKES to pour in.
So much for living in the moment.
