Superior levels of spite enable me to emerge victorious against a seatmate encroaching over the middle “line.”

Listen to me old people. Don’t get up while the train is coming to a stop.

He does not compare himself to players and coaches, but, you know, a catcher’s mitt or a cleat spike or something.

I have had a personal rule not to wear blue collared shirts with gray pants, because I felt I was dressing as a baseball umpire.

This morning some tourists got on the train and commenced major map gawking.