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My last two base partners showed up with sweat-stained four-stitch caps. The first guy took me up on my offer of a spray bottle treatment; the second guy said, "I like the stains on my cap, it shows that I've been really breaking a sweat out there."
He turned out to have the worst game of any partner I ever had. After his fifth blown call and fifth visit at the sideline, I had to tell him to stay to hell away from me and stop giving me all these enthusiastic nods and thumbs-up signals and stop making calls on the run and stop looking at the scoreboard and stop talking to the players and stop making calls until the play is actually made ...
And you know, I knew it was going to be a long day just by looking at his cap when he drove up.
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