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Homer Carnegie. Admit it—you know my name. Your kid’s got my e-trading card. Your husband sits up straighter when I stroll onto the TV screen. He knows I’m going to crack the bat and save the day. Even your grandma’s jonesing for my autograph. But women my age? They’re the worst. Or would that be the best?
It’s not my fault they line up at the door. They catch my balls all right, two at a time sometimes. Believe me, everybody wins.
At least they did—until the video. I heard TMZ paid a million for a bird’s eye view of Homer on his A-game. The only folks who didn’t watch with eager eyes? Red Sox management. They want me benched, or worse, shipped off to rehab.
It’s a long story, what happens next. How I end up on a boat, bound for the world’s most remote island: Tristan da Cunha. Just a speck of dust in the Atlantic.
Except my heart is there.
I don’t know that when I step onto the boat.
I don’t know a lot of things.
What I’ll covet…
What I’ll lose…
