A blow, but not a fatal one

^

Gotta be honest with you: I wanted to blog over this past weekend about as much as I wanted my boxers set on fire (with me in them).

Why? Another slight setback on the road to my big journalistic comeback. I won't name the company, but I thought I had a pretty cool freelance gig set up only to discover that I didn't. 

For the first time since I became a free agent, I felt really down. As a result, the last thing I wanted to do Friday or Saturday was write TBT or anything else, so forgive me for my brief absence.

But, human Superball that I am, I bounced back and posted Sunday. And now, taking a page out of the Benjamin Button book, I'm going back to my youth as I age. 

I'm returning on a freelance basis to the AP, my employer for my first 16 years of adulthood, and mostly will be writing game stories about the Cubs and White Sox once or twice a week. 

I'm also toying with finally writing my first book, though I've said that before. We'll see if I follow through now that I've called myself out publicly!

The urgency of working on "a deadline every minute," as the old AP mantra goes, should be an interesting change for me. And it will keep me writing professionally until I decide what I want to do in the event I ever grow up.

As for The Baldest Truth, I'll keep on keeping on for the foreseeable future. In fact, starting Wednesday, I'll be previewing the baseball season in my own warped way.

Thanks for sticking with me, everybody.