It was one of those glorious early days of spring that celebrate the Birthday of the World.

Warm, not hot. (Obviously before the Heat Dome/ Doom descended.)

Crystalline azure sky.

The trees along the tracks and Frankfort Avenue turning new green.

The kind of day when I drive by Blue Dog Bakery, my mind, ignoring an expanding waistline, implores “You sure you don’t want a croissant, or a small five grain loaf, or maybe one of those killer chocolate bouchons?”

Of course.

Lured by an available parking spot just ahead, my Subaru pulls over as if on its own.

There, sitting outside, staring off into the middle distance, luxuriating in the early afternoon, the table a splay of brunch delectables, former Cardinal guard Fred Holden, the set up guy during the Wes Unseld years.

An old pal, I greet him, and advise, “Hey I’m crafting a series to run during the summer. Ten years ago they tore down Crawford Gym . . . ”

Out of character the normally reticent Holden interrupts, blurting out, “I’ve got a story about Crawford.” Continue reading Crawford Chronicles: Holden Edition →