The sleepy Friday

The alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. This, of course, after another so-so night of sleep.

After breakfast, a shower, and dressing enough to look good for my brief foray on camera, I made my way into the home office by 5:30 to start work.

Business on the top.

Comfort on the bottom.

Part one of the workday was done by 2 p.m., giving me a break to get ready for "Doubleheader." I promised to be calmer and I was, mocking myself by playing "zen" style music during the show.

Yes, I'm the butt of my own joke.

Sean showed up shortly after 5 p.m. to the delight of both father and cat. Dinner arrived shortly after.

Throughout the day, I plotted some five podcasting recording sessions (might have been more but it definitely wasn't less).

Over the past few days, I've cleaned out old paperwork, paid bills, and tried to keep matriculating the ball down the field.

Such things are cathartic.

But, now, I've hit the wall. Until just a few minutes ago, I had not the first idea what to write about.

I put the TV on. I stuck with the trusty Weather Channel for a while, then went to the Ken Jennings-hosted "Jeopardy"* before wandering through a little bit of a TV wasteland.

*I know there will be other guest hosts, but I've liked Jennings. He has the right personality to host it permanently. For what it's worth, my mother's maiden name? Jennings.

These two. Messrs. Gehrig and Ruth

But, just after 8 p.m., as I was feeling like I might fall asleep and leave our little "Project Infinity" to come to a close, I saw that an episode of Ken Burns's Baseball was on.

It's actually quite flawed. Oh, sure, mistakes get made. It happens. But, by some counts, Burns' nine and, eventually, ten-part docuseries is packed with errors.

And I'm still sitting here loving it. It's the comfort food equivalent at the concession stand of television.

If there was a course I could teach -- besides play-by-play application and history, of course -- it would probably be something on baseball history.

The episode that is on tonight is the one on the 1920s.

You can probably guess that this one is a favorite.

Babe Ruth is the big star of this one.

Maybe I've said it and maybe I haven't but, in truth, I would have loved Ruth but he wouldn't have been my favorite had I been alive at the time. There's very little doubt -- virtually none -- that I would have been a Lou Gehrig guy.

Don't get me wrong. I loved Jeter and Bernie and the stars of the 90s but I was a Paul O'Neill guy. He was the grunt. He was the heart and soul.

Gehrig played hard, avoided the spotlight, and was an all-time great.

I can wax poetic about George Herman, of course. The Babe of Baltimore outhomered full teams, changed the game, was the best left-handed pitcher of the 1910s, and so on. He was truly the GOAT and nobody will ever change my mind about that.

It's a debate not worth having with me. I'll hear your Willie Mays, Barry Bonds, Mike Trout, Ty Cobb thoughts. I'll hear your "Ruth didn't face this one or that one" argument.

And then I'll respond. I'll tell you that greatness overcomes all. Ruth would have been Ruth regardless. It's an opinion. It's all conjecture.

You won't agree with it or like it.

So we can agree to disagree.

Oh, and he had a little ol' ballpark built for him.

Literally.

The New York Giants wouldn't have thrown the Yankees out of the Polo Grounds had it not been for Ruth, who was now causing the lesser thought-of American League squad to outdraw the true home team of the established National League.

Anyway, I can drone on about Ruth, and I can feel the readers getting more bored with each word.

Some call the Burns effort "pretentious." I get it, but I love the sepia-toned feel with interviews from all over the baseball landscape of the time.

I watched every minute of it when it debuted on PBS in 1994. I bought it on VHS when it came out (I still have it).

It hits me in the right place.

Factual errors and all.