I dreamed last night that I was playing left field for the New York Yankees. And at third base was Cosmo Kramer (a.k.a. Michael Richards). A-Rod was evidently injured or in contract negotiations.

A ball flew over my head, hit the wall, and bounced to me. I grabbed it and threw a really nice bullet to try to pick off the runner streaking toward second base. Unfortunately, my throw, though straight and fast, was not in the vicinity of the second basemen’s glove. So the runner made it safely to second.

That was my first error. Then a fly ball came my direction, but short, so I had to run in for it. I had my glove out, zeroing in on the ball. But the thing missed my glove entirely and struck me in the gut. Error number two.

At that point, Cosmo told me bluntly, “You can leave now.” I looked into left field, and my replacement was already there: my good friend from church Russ Baker. He gave me a shrug, as if saying, “Sorry.” And then I must have awakened, because I can’t remember anything else.

Why the Yankees? Maybe because my first year of Little League, I played for the Yankees. We ended up winning the league that year (after my 4th grade year). I played shortstop most of the time, but I remember playing first base a few times. One game was especially memorable. Someone hit the ball over the head of our right fielder, a very young, unathletic fellow with minimal interest in playing baseball. He just stood out there, his glove tucked under his right arm, daydreaming. I yelled at him to get the ball, and that startled him out of his alternate universe. But he didn’t understand what I was telling him. I ended up running out there, getting the ball myself, and heaving it toward home plate. But alas, it was too late. An inside-the-park homer.

So maybe that’s why I dreamed about the Yankees, as opposed to the Phillies or some other team. Why Russ Baker turned up in my dream, I don’t know. I hope he played better than I did.