I’m not a date rememberer. I don’t remember the date of most of the best days of my life. But I remember September 18, 1997, because that was the first ever Brian Johnson Day. I didn’t know it was Brian Johnson day when they woke up that morning. Nobody did. Not even Brian Johnson.
Coincidentally, it was also the day I moved to Los Angeles, where I’ve lived ever since. Everything I owned was in Sonoma, packed into the bed of my pickup, which was gassed up and ready for the six-hour drive. The trip was timed to coincide with a Giants game -- so I could spend as much time on the road as possible being distracted by baseball, my favorite traveling companion.