I have few vices. 

Where others might commission tattoos, I have … t-shirts. 

I fall in love with too many things and am way too scrawny to commit to tattoos. 

I can be pretty much summed up by and/or reduced to the Billy Collins’ poem, “Aimless Love.” 

“But my heart is always propped up in a field on its tripod, ready for the next arrow.” 

Much to the chagrin of my wife (and my closet), I find t-shirts inexhaustible objects for my affections. 

While shopping local a couple months ago, I stumbled upon the most wonderful creation, whose artist happened to choose a t-shirt for their canvas.

The above captures Forbes Field’s manual scoreboard the moment right before Bill Mazeroski cemented his baseball legacy on Oct. 13, 1960 — the second before his Game7-World-Series-winning home run off the Yankees’ Ralph Terry in the bottom of the ninth inning.  

For me it was love at first sight. 

So I was bummed when, the day after I ordered, I got an email from Wild Card in Lawrenceville, informing  me they were out of larges … and asking me if I’d be interested in a medium instead. 

But then I noticed a second email from Wild Card in my in-box. From the same person. Mentioning that if I wanted to try the medium, she’d send me a self-addressed return envelope in the slim (ha) chance it didn’t fit. 

Who does that? Wild Card in Lawrenceville does.

Turns out, the medium suited me as kindly as Ralph Terry’s high fastball did Maz. 

First time I wore it, I thought of a kindred spirit who would appreciate it. 

Texted a pic of my proud torso to my friend Jeff. 

His reply reeked of pure Pittsburgh serendipity.

Get this: turns out I actually know the person who designed the shirt.  

Not only that, it was Jeff who introduced us a few years ago.

How’s that for a confluence? 

Jeff shot me the number of his good friend, Nick, who I texted immediately, informing him of the wellspring of exponential Pittsburgh joy presently emanating from my torso. 

“Ha … I think that’s my favorite, too,” Nick replied all the way from LA, where he now lives with his acclaimed-author-and-TV-writing- wife and family.

He summed up the inspiration for the design so perfectly and profoundly. 

“Next pitch changes everything.” 

Wow. 

__

I’ve been walking around with Nick’s words in my pocket ever since our serendipitous exchange. 

They keep grabbing me by my collar and shaking me awake. 

We are all always only a pitch away from everything changing. 

For the better … if you happened to be wearin’ black and gold on Oct. 13, 1960. 

Or for worse, if you were wearin’ pinstripes.

Our existence is nothing but precious and fragile. 

Yet always pregnant with possibility. 

Which makes the choice of putting good into the world — even in something as temporal as a t-shirt — a sacred act.

As sacred as any kindness requiring intention … a self-addressed return envelope just in case, as an example. 

If it wasn’t for the kind gesture of the person at Wild Card, I may not have ordered the shirt, and wouldn’t have thought of Jeff, wouldn’t have learned that I knew the designer, would never have sent Nick my gratitude, and would have gone a lifetime missing out on the golden wisdom he drew from Mazeroski’s heroic act. 

Our tiniest gestures can be oxygen for campfires … that remind us that we’re connected in ways we can’t even imagine.  

Next pitch changes everything.