To Sell or Not to Sell

The Cabin is at the center of an existential question

The Cabin

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Amish guys built our cabin in 2004. It’s a solid little place, all high ceilings, fat beams and a metal roof. It’s 70 miles from our house and a world away from everything we like to think is consequential.

The Cabin has hosted a family Thanksgiving and more than a few New Year’s Eves. These days, I go there to sit.

If it’s 90 degrees here, it’ll be 83 or 4 there. A breeze, persistent as a meaningful kiss, blows up from the valley below. The back porch is always covered in the shade of a tree forest. It’s as quiet as eternity.

I love the place.

I’ll probably sell it soon.

It’s an existential decision. I say that only half seriously. I mean, lots of folks worry about running out of money before they run out of month. I’m freaking out about whether to sell a weekend house. Shut up.

But it does make me think.

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We don’t use it enough. It’s in the woods. There are bugs. They make their way into the cabin. My wife is understandably leery of sleeping in a place where carpenter bees are comfortable. I said I’d fix that issue. I haven’t. So Kerry doesn’t go anymore.

I go mostly to cut the grass. Every few weeks, I’ll spend a few hours making the place look as if somebody lives there. I’ll spend another few hours on the deck, burning a cigar and staring into the trees. How great is that?

I’m convinced I’ll sell. And then I go there and sit. And I say, “I can’t sell this place.’’

It’s paid for. But there are taxes and insurance and things that need fixed. We use it so little, the nightly cost of staying there would be roughly $700. Crazy.

But I love it.

I hate the thought of yielding to age and practicality. Getting older is a matter of letting things go, of shrinking and remembrance. I’m too young to do any of that. Or so I say.

Selling the cabin would be a concession to who I’m becoming. I don’t much like that.

So, for now, I make the pleasant drive out 32, through West Union and into Amish country beauty, to sit on the porch and let the cabin into my essence. I’m in this sort-of halfway stage of life. The cabin makes that plain. And so I ask. . .

Keep or sell?

What think, Mobsters?

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Now, then. . .

Joey Votto’s retirement, whenever it might be, should not end his employment with the Reds. I’m not saying The Club should keep Joseph Daniel around as some sort of roving hitting guru or create some bogus job as a goodwill ambassador. The Reds could appoint him as Director of Caravan Transportation, given his stated goal of being a “future school bus driver.’’ But that would seriously underuse Votto’s vast array of ancillary talents.

I’m thinking Minister of Quotes.

Make the man available whenever the media has a question. About, you know, everything. Astrology, mysticism, world religion, Jenga. Wines, cheeses, sock-shoe, sock shoe or sock-sock, shoe-shoe.

Gifts, Joe: Christmas Eve or Christmas morning?

Travel, maybe.

Joey Votto Instagram

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It doesn’t matter. I’d pay to see Votto hit, still. I’d pay to hear him talk. (No, I wouldn’t. But I’d certainly pay attention.) Heathen Scribe Sports World is larded with jocks who say next to nothing, either on purpose or because they have nothing interesting to say, and that’s OK. I never thought an athlete owed me anything. I was frankly surprised at the cooperation I got, especially from folks to whom I wasn’t always charitable in print. Votto very much included.

I’d listen to Joey Votto read the back of a cereal box. My biggest challenge when talking to him was coming up with something I thought might interest him, beyond the fences of baseball. My BABIP wasn’t very high on that score.

Votto’s latest Hall of Fame interview comes courtesy of GQ magazine. The writer asked Votto about his travel habits. A generation of living out of a suitcase produces a certain, unique way of living. The future Minister of Quotes came through as solidly as a double up the alley in left-center.

Votto’s favorite sushi place in America is not in NY, SF or the global capital of Waffle House Nation, Atlanta. It’s Toledo. Ohio. Kengo Sushi in Toledo “was fabulous. Fabulous!’’

On his hotel arrival routine: “When we arrive, if I don’t immediately iron and hang my clothes, put out my toiletries and set up the bed how I like it, I actually feel it affects how I play.’’

“I always bring a brand-new bar (of soap) and leave it in the room. Same with brand-new toothbrushes.’’

“I have not turned on a hotel television in 15 years.’’

“I have to bring a fan. I always travel with a Dyson fan.’’

Votto packs a hoodie, sweatpants and socks on every roadie, so he’s prepared if the room temp isn’t ideal. The GQ scribe didn’t suggest that Votto simply adjust the thermostat. But, whatever.

He really likes Pittsburgh.

Votto travels with something called an Efferdent dental appliance cleaner.

“I’m particular about my toothbrush. I also always bring a bar of soap. It’s a wasteful experience, but I always bring a brand-new bar and leave it in the room. Same with brand-new toothbrushes.’’

If you don’t find this stuff fascinating, you’ve not spent a career chronicling the fortunes of people who take ‘em one game at a time.

SPITBALLING. . . if you had to choose one current Red to build around, who would it be? Hunter Greene, Nick Lodolo? Run-DLC?

Answer: Matt McLain.

De La Cruz almost single-handedly made the Reds fascinating this summer. His first month revived a moribund fan base fatigued by years of losing and defective rebuilds. I’ve never seen anything like it here. Maybe Eric Davis’ arrival.

But since the Break, De La Cruz is hitting .195 and has struck out in 41 percent of his at-bats. Elly De La DiMaggio is at an early crossroads. All-time great? Or the next Javier Baez?

McLain, though, has been a smooth road for close to four months. His average has been below .300 for all of 12 days since early May, and that includes the last five games. McLain gets on base 36 percent of the time, he slugs at a .505 clip. McLain’s defense has been steady if not spectacular.

The only knock is, he has struck out 99 times in 349 PAs, while walking only 25 times. But he has been the steadiest presence in a lineup that, while occasionally brilliant, has ker-bumped through injuries and slumps. Plus, McLain’s a shortstop, arguably the most important position on the field.

Your thoughts.

TUNE O’ THE DAY. . . My pal Maximus, easing into retirement by moving from here to suburban Tucson, was in town last night. The subject of Carolina Beach Music arose, as we guessed it might given our alma maters are Washington & Lee and Wake Forest.

Carolina Beach is as unique as the regional dialect. Tams, Embers, Catalinas, Drifters, Showmen and so on. Here is quite possibly my favorite.

Hall of Fame quarterback Peyton Manning added college professor to his list of post-NFL jobs after the University of Tennessee, his alma mater, named him a professor of practice for the 2023 fall semester.

Manning, who played for the Volunteers from 1994-1997, will join classes at the school's College of Communication and Information as "a featured expert" alongside the faculty. He graduated from Tennessee with a degree in speech communication.