It is 40 minutes to game time, and the broadcaster excuses himself from the press box. He has been at the ballpark for close to two hours already, setting up his laptop, checking in with the coaches, taping statistics and rosters to the window in front of him.
He is 78. He shuffles down the steps of the metal bleachers, wearing a black Cal State Northridge polo shirt beneath a head full of silver hair and a ready smile. No one stops him on the way down. One person stops him on the way back.
He used to be one of the voices of summer in Los Angeles, but the Northridge students are too young to know.