80 degrees. Friday afternoon. In less than an hour I'll be making the drive to Reading, windows down and listening to the Beatles and Springsteen, on my way to my son's opening day high school baseball game. I have the folding chair in the trunk and the diet pepsis on ice, and my Boston College Alumni hat on my head, and look forweard to planting myself somewhere along the left field line with a bag of peanuts. I'll be in my glory.