“At last, my love has come along.
My lonely days are over
and life is like a song, oh yeah
At last, the skies above are blue”
Oh Etta, you’re singing our song. Tomorrow, at last, the music returns, the clouds part.
It’s been four months. Four long, cold, lonely months. But tomorrow, at last, our heroes return to the diamond. The pop of the catcher’s mitt, the crack of the bat. The throw down to second. “You’re out!” At long last.
OK, the games don’t count.